#REALLY want to do a thread featuring the Breaking Row

[perfectsunlight]

[34] DANDELION

warnings: LOTS of angst, crying, minor argument

FLASHBACK

ivory stared at the phone in her hands, the screen glowing brightly in the dim light of her room. her fingers hovered over the screen, tapping out her mother’s name for the fifth time in a row. but the call went straight to voicemail again.

her chest tightened. she dialed again.

beep. beep. beep.

the sound of the ringing tone mocked her, loud and persistent, but to her, it felt like the world was falling apart with each unanswered call. her thumb pressed down on the redial button like it was her only lifeline. come on, mom, she thought desperately, pick up. please pick up.

jennie had been about to leave for a schedule overseas. it wasn’t the first time, but this time, ivory couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. she’d tried to keep things light before her mom left, but the conversation had taken a sharp turn into something darker. something ugly.

“ivory, you have no idea what it’s like,” the idol had said, her voice heavy with exhaustion and frustration. “you don’t see it, you don’t understand. i can’t keep doing this, not with you acting like this every time i leave. i have a life, i have responsibilities.”

“i don’t want to hear that. i don’t want to hear about your ‘responsibilities’ or your life!” thirteen year old ivory had shouted, her voice cracking with frustration. “i’m the one left here, alone. i’m the one who’s always left behind!”

“i’m not abandoning you, ivory,” jennie had tried to reason, but ivory wasn’t listening. “i’m doing this for you! i—”

“i don’t need you to do anything for me!” 

the words had come out before she even realized it. the raw emotion, the years of frustration, had poured out in that moment. ivory knew she really should’ve stopped. 

but she didn’t.

“i just need you to be here! you’re always gone. always. and when you’re here, you’re never really here. just... gone. you don’t even see me anymore!” the young teen barked, cat-like eyes narrowing in accusation and pure rage. 

jennie’s face twisted, hurt flashing through her features, but she didn’t say anything more. she’d grabbed her things, quickly, and with a cold, sharp glance, she’d left the house. she didn’t say goodbye. there was no hug, no comforting touch. 

nothing. nothing at all.

ivory had stood there for hours after that, in the silence that followed, feeling the weight of her words, and realizing how much she hated how empty the house felt when her mother was gone. that emptiness was suffocating. but more than that, the silence between them—created by that fight—was more painful than she could bear. it was like she was waiting for something to break. something to crack open and release all the emotions they both hadn’t said. but none of it had come.

and now she couldn’t reach her.

she dialed again.

beep. beep. beep.

her vision blurred as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. panic was clawing at her chest. why isn’t she picking up? the flight from seoul to tokyo was only two and a half hours. so why wasn’t her mother answering her? she felt her heart race as her mind ran wild. is she okay? where is she? why is she doing this?or even worse—did her mother hate her now?

the silence in the house grew louder as the seconds dragged on. it was suffocating. her breathing grew shallow, fast. it was like the weight of the world was pressing down on her, and she couldn’t escape it.

“mom, please pick up. please, please pick up.” her voice cracked as she whispered into the phone, but there was no answer.

dial. redial. dial. redial.

her stomach twisted painfully as her mind began to spiral. was something wrong? had something happened to her? was jennie hurt? was she in trouble? the thoughts raced through her like a tidal wave, and no matter how much she told herself she was being paranoid, the fear gripped her harder and harder.

her mom had always been there for her. always been the strong one. but now, everything felt wrong. the fight, the silence; it was like the last thread of their bond had snapped.

she grabbed her jacket, ran out of the room, and down the hallway, the echo of her steps hollow in the silence of the house. there was a heavy sense of dread hanging in the air, thick like fog, and ivory knew she couldn’t just sit around waiting anymore. she needed answers.

she called again.

beep. beep. beep.

the voicemail again.

her breath hitched. she was losing control. this panic wasn’t like the ones she had before. this was different. this was the kind of panic that made someone physically ill.that sinking feeling in your stomach, like the world is shifting beneath your feet, and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

she dialed another number, her hands shaking so badly she almost couldn’t hold the phone steady. her fingers barely made contact with the keys.

“please pick up. mommy, please,” she panicked desperately into the phone. the phone kept ringing. over and over again. each unanswered call felt like another weight added to her chest, making it harder to breathe. her fingers trembled as she pressed the redial button, not even realizing how many times she had done it. her thoughts spiraled faster than she could catch them.

she paced back and forth in the hallway, the sound of her sneakers hitting the cold floor echoing in the otherwise silent house. every few seconds, she’d glance at the phone in her hand, her thumb hovering over the screen, desperate for some sign, some answer.

her throat felt tight, constricting with each passing moment. she could feel the panic building in her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. come on, come on...

the screen lit up again. another voicemail. another unanswered call.

her head began to spin. she could hear her own thoughts screaming in her ears. 

it was the worst feeling. that helpless, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. it wasn’t even about the fight anymore. it wasn’t about the harsh words or the things they said to each other before she left. 

i need you, mom.

the phone rang again.

beep. beep. beep.

her eyes blurred with tears as she let the phone drop to her side, her body shaking with silent sobs. she couldn’t hold it in anymore. her face crumpled as she slid down the wall, her back resting against the cold surface. the tears streamed freely, the fear flooding every inch of her being. she tried to breathe, to calm down, but the more she thought about it, the worse it got.

the phone remained still on the floor next to her, the screen dimming and lighting up with each new call she tried to make, but there was still no answer. ivory’s breath was shallow, her body wracked with the kind of anxiety that felt unbearable. the silence in the house felt like it was closing in on her, and she was suffocating under the weight of her fear and her anger. her mind kept racing, the dread gnawing at her from the inside out.

but jennie didn’t call back.

she didn’t look at the phone.

hours passed. ivory stayed in the hallway, her mind a blur of irrational thoughts, spiraling down the darker paths of her imagination. she couldn’t sleep. every time she tried to close her eyes, the image of her mother’s unreturned calls haunted her, the phone screen flashing back into her vision with each failed attempt.

the clock ticked on, relentlessly.

by the time the house was draped in the thick quiet of night, ivory was numb. her heart ached. her mind was frazzled with exhaustion, but the sense of betrayal, of being abandoned, still twisted inside her chest.

it wasn’t until nearly midnight when jennie’s name finally flashed on the phone screen.

ivory’s hand shot out before she could stop herself, her heart leaping into her throat. her eyes were red from the tears she had cried. she had stopped counting the calls long ago. she thought it would be different this time.

but when she swiped to answer, all she could do was ramble. “i’m sorry!” ivory choked out immediately, cutting her mother off before she could say anything. "i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean what i said earlier, mom, i swear, i didn’t mean it, i just...i was so scared, okay? i thought something happened to you. i thought...i thought you hated me, and you were never gonna come back and i—”

the words tumbled out in a rushed, disjointed mess. her throat burned with every sob that racked her body.

"i was calling, and calling, and calling, and you didn’t answer. you didn’t pick up, and i thought—i thought maybe you were gone," jane was shaking again now, the phone pressed to her ear but her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

the tears came harder, choking her. she couldn’t stop herself. the fear was overwhelming. “i—i thought you weren’t coming back, and i don’t know what i would do without you, mom. please, don’t leave me. i don’t want to be alone.”

and then the young girl started sobbing. she couldn’t stop it, she didn’t care if jennie could hear her fall apart; she didn’t care about anything except for the voice on the other end of the line. the voice she needed to hear more than anything.

“i’m so sorry,” jane repeated between hiccuping sobs. “i didn’t mean it, i didn’t mean any of it. please don’t leave me, mom. i don’t know what i’d do without you. i can’t lose you... i just—i need you.”

for a moment, there was nothing but silence on the line, and for that second, ivory thought she was imagining it all—the fear, the isolation, the helplessness.

then jennie’s voice, raw and cracked, broke through the quiet. “valentine, i’m here. i’m here, okay?”

but ivory could barely hear it over the sound of her own crying. “no, you don’t understand, i was so scared. i thought you weren’t coming back. i thought you hated me because of what happened. i—”

“no,” jennie interrupted, her voice firm and honest. “no, no, baby. i don’t hate you. i could never hate you. i was just... i was so busy, and i didn’t look at my phone. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you.”

but ivory couldn’t stop crying. her hands were shaking as she tried to calm herself, but every breath felt like it was being ripped from her chest.

“i didn’t want to hurt you, mom,” ivory cried, pressing the phone to her ear tighter, desperate for reassurance. “i didn’t want you to leave, i swear i didn’t.”

her mother’s voice softened more, but it was still thick with emotion. “i wasn’t going anywhere. don’t cry, please.” the idol pleaded gently, trying her best to soothe the only child she had.

jane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe through the overwhelming emotion. the flood of fear and guilt began to calm, but it was still so hard to let go of the feeling that jennie might leave her for real this time. that the fight they had would end everything.

“i’m not going anywhere, ivory. i promise. and you’re not going anywhere either, right?”

the young girl shook her head as she answered, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “no. i don’t wanna go anywhere away from you.”

jennie’s voice was a soft, calming presence in the darkness, keeping the panic at bay as her daughter’s sobs began to taper off. after a moment of quiet, jennie spoke again, this time with a gentle authority that only a mother could have.

"okay, go get changed, baby. you’ve gotta get ready for bed, alright?" she said, her tone tender but firm. "no more tears, promise?"

ivory sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she nodded, even though jennie couldn’t see. 

“okay.” the young girl relented without any fight or argument. jennie could hear the small shuffle of ivory’s feet on the floor, and she felt a wave of comfort knowing her daughter was listening. she stayed on the line, her voice soft, keeping her close even through the distance.

"now, go brush your teeth, okay?" jennie added, a little smile on her face, even though ivory couldn’t see it. "we don’t want you waking up with a sore mouth from all those tears."

ivory didn’t say anything at first, but jennie could hear her humming a quiet, "mhm," followed by the sound of her footsteps retreating.

jennie listened as the soft rustle of her daughter getting changed filled the silence. she could hear the faint sound of the bathroom door opening and the tap running as ivory brushed her teeth. she waited for the sound of the toothpaste and toothbrush before speaking again, her voice soft, like a lullaby meant to soothe away the remnants of the day’s worry.

“you’re doing great, valentine,” jennie said, a soft but proud smile on her face. "now, go climb into bed. you know where to go."

there was a brief pause before jane’s quiet voice came through again, barely audible, but it made jennie’s heart swell.

"i’m gonna sleep in your old room tonight," she said, her voice small, as though the weight of the past had settled in, and she needed that familiar comfort.

the idol smiled at the thought. it had been years since she’d lived in that house, but she knew exactly what ivory meant. she knew how much the feeling of her old room still brought a sense of closeness, a piece of home that ivory still clung to.

“okay, baby. i know you miss me,” jennie said softly, her voice tender. "but you’re safe there. i’ll always be here, right here, even if you’re not in my room."

ivory was quiet for a moment, but then she whispered, “i know. i just like sleeping in here. it feels like you’re still here.”

jennie’s heart clenched at that, but she held it together. she could imagine her daughter lying in her old bed, surrounded by memories of when things were simpler, before the distance of jennie’s work had grown so wide.

“goodnight, valentine,” jennie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "i’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep, okay? i’m right here."

ivory’s voice came through again, small but comforting. “okay, mommy. i love you.”

jennie’s voice softened even further. “i love you more, jane.”

and with that, the room grew quiet except for the gentle hum of the phone line, the sound of ivory settling into her bed, the soft rustle of the sheets, and the steady rhythm of her breathing as she finally let the exhaustion of the day lull her to sleep. and jennie stayed on the line, her heart full of love, until she was sure her daughter had drifted off, feeling safe in the quiet night.

PRESENT DAY

the rain fell harder, hammering the windows of the car as jennie slammed her phone down onto the passenger seat. another dead end. another wasted attempt. she wiped a hand over her face, trying to hold back the wave of panic threatening to swallow her whole. her daughter—her baby girl—was somewhere out there, and jennie had no idea where.

“alright,” lisa said from the backseat, her voice taut with frustration against the backdrop of the ambiance outside. “that’s, what, the ninth hotel? no one’s seen her. we need to figure this out, fast.”

jennie nodded, her eyes never leaving the road as the car made its way through the wet streets. lisa and rosie in the back, with jisoo in the passenger seat. each of them just as invested, each of them just as desperate. 

even though they hadn’t met their niece fully, not fully properly at least, they still wanted to help. 

“try calling the one down by the docks,” jennie said, her voice hoarse, raw. “maybe she’s trying to blend in. get a different vibe.” she gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white from the tension.

rosé nodded, grabbing her phone, already dialing the next hotel. she wasn’t sure how many more calls they could make before exhaustion hit them all like a truck.

“i can’t believe she would do this,” jisoo murmured, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror as she stared out the back window. “she’s so young. and in all the wrong places.”

“we’re gonna find her,” jennie’s voice cracked with determination, her dark irises narrowing as she spoke. “i don’t care if i have to pay either. she can’t hide forever.”

hours slipped by. call after call. hotel after hotel. they were hitting nothing but silence, confusion, or polite but firm refusals. jennie’s eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, the steady grind of desperation beginning to eat at her mind. she could hear the others starting to lose hope as well. the streets blurred together, the city sinking into a haze of neon lights and reflection.

“we can’t keep going in circles,” rosé muttered, her voice sharp, almost defeated. “there’s nothing. not now at least.”

jennie shot her a look, one of warning, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. they were all on edge.

she took a deep breath, her mind racing. she couldn’t think about the worst-case scenarios. not yet. not until she had her.

at this point, it didn’t matter what city they were in, what district they were calling. jennie was calling the hotels at random. one by one. they’d all lost their sense of direction, driven by nothing but the instinct to keep searching.

“look, it’s late. and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover again in the morning. she’s safe enough to make a statement so that means she’s okay, alright? let’s just call it a night and try again in the morning.” lisa reasoned gently.

jennie felt the weight of those words like a brick settling in her chest. she wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea of losing her daughter or the thought of giving up, even for just one night. but she knew she couldn’t keep going in circles. she had to rest. they all did.

“yeah,” jennie muttered, barely audible. she slowed the car, pulling up to the next intersection, her mind still buzzing with the need to find her. “okay. i’ll take you back to your places first.”

the others nodded in agreement, and soon they were driving through the quiet streets of seoul, heading toward their separate homes. the tension was thick in the air, no one speaking. no one needed to. they were all too exhausted to talk, too emotionally drained to force any kind of conversation. the silence felt like a void, a cavernous emptiness that consumed the car, but jennie couldn’t even find the strength to acknowledge it.

pulling up to rosé’s apartment first, jennie stared at the building for a long moment, parked just across the street. rosé gave her a small smile, tired and strained, before slipping out of the car. no words. just a wave, then she disappeared into the lobby.

next, she dropped lisa off. lisa hesitated, pausing before getting out of the car. her usual sharp energy had dimmed, replaced by the weight of the situation. her expression said it all—she was just as broken inside as jennie was. but she didn’t say anything. she just gave a small nod and slipped out of the car, vanishing into the night.

jisoo was last. she looked over at jennie, her face pale, eyes red from the stress of the search. “call me if you need anything,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

jennie gave a curt nod, but didn’t speak. she simply watched as jisoo made her way inside, all too familiar with the way this night had drained them. she needed to be alone. she needed to think.

alone at last, jennie pulled away from the curb and drove back to her own house. her body felt like it was moving on autopilot, her mind still spinning with what-ifs, with thoughts of her daughter. the drive felt longer than it ever had before. every street seemed to stretch endlessly, but jennie couldn’t bring herself to care.

when she finally pulled into her driveway, she parked the car and sat for a moment in the quiet of the garage. she didn’t want to go inside. the house felt empty without ivory’s laughter filling the air. it felt foreign to her, like the walls were closing in, reminding her of the distance between them.

but she had to. she had no choice.

jennie grabbed her bag, stepping out of the car and into the cold night air. she didn’t bother to lock the door. her mind was elsewhere. she just needed to shower. to feel some semblance of control, even if it was just for a few minutes.

the house was still too quiet as she made her way to the bathroom. she turned on the shower, the sound of the water pouring over her providing some kind of comfort. she didn’t care that her hair was damp by the time she was done. she barely even felt the towel around her waist as she rushed to get dressed.

there was no time for food. she didn’t feel hungry, only nauseous from the sickening worry that sat heavily in her stomach. she crawled into bed, curling up under the blankets, the cool sheets doing little to ease the anxiety thrumming through her.

the bed felt too big without ivory. too empty.

with a deep sigh, jennie pulled the covers up to her chin, half of her hair still damp from the shower, the other half tangled in messy strands around her face. her mind wouldn’t stop, the guilt, the fear, the anxiety eating at her. but she couldn’t sleep. not yet.

where was she? was she safe? jennie couldn't focus, couldn't think about anything other than the woman she hadn’t heard from in days. she had to find her.

jennie grabbed her phone from the nightstand, unlocking it with shaky hands. her fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand thoughts running through her mind as she tried to think of any hotel she hadn’t called yet. she couldn't waste any more time. she couldn’t afford to let it go. she had to make sure jane was okay.

her thumb hovered over the list of hotel names as her eyes scanned each one, searching for something that felt like it might be a lead. something, anything, that might give her an answer. it was late—too late—and she was tired, but she couldn’t give up. she couldn’t.

finally, her finger stopped on one that seemed as far out as possible—a small, run-down hotel on the outskirts of seoul. hotel dandelion. it was the last place she’d want to stay, but it might be the one she hadn't thought to call yet. she didn’t think twice. she clicked the number without hesitation, the urgency in her gut overwhelming.

the phone rang three times before someone finally picked up.

“hello, hotel dandelion, how can i assist you?” the voice was gruff, old. it sounded like the person on the other end had seen more than their fair share of strange calls.

jennie didn't waste time, her voice tight with a combination of fear and desperation. “hi. uh, i’m looking for a jane kim,” she said quickly. “do you have anyone with that name checked in recently?”

there was a long pause. too long. jennie’s heart pounded louder in her ears as she held her breath.

the man on the other end of the line let out a slow exhale, as if considering something carefully before responding. "i’m afraid i don’t have a jane kim," he said, his voice slow, methodical, almost too calm. "i’m sorry, ma’am."

jennie felt a sharp stab of disappointment. her grip on the phone tightened, but she tried not to let the frustration show in her voice. "are you sure? this is really important. i need to find her," jennie pressed, her tone a little more insistent, a little more urgent.

the man didn’t respond right away. jennie could hear him shuffling something in the background before he spoke again.

"i’m afraid there’s no jane kim here," he repeated, his voice firm, but not unkind. "maybe you’ve got the wrong place."

jennie’s mind raced. the tight knot of fear in her chest tightened further, the sense of helplessness growing by the second. she couldn’t afford to make mistakes. she had to be sure.

but just as soon as she went to hang up, his voice cut through again. “i do have a ruby jane here though. recent check in, too.”

jennie froze, her entire body going still as if she’d been struck by lightning. her heart skipped a beat. and a small sad smile pulled on the corners of her mouth.

it’s her. 

“okay thank you. i’ll be there shortly.” jennie replied quickly. without another thought, jennie slammed the phone down, her breath quickening as she leapt out of bed. she had no time to waste. there was no more hesitation. she didn’t care about anything else.

she grabbed her slippers, threw on her jacket, and sprinted toward the door, the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears.

she had to get to that hotel. and she had to get there now.

i’m coming, valentine. i promise.

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CLOSED.

[keenvictory]

"Minor possessive talk, mostly he's just a clingy loser" on the Cove drabble got me so good -- could you maybe do something similar for Derek and Baxter?!

Crazy about your writing, tysm for sharing!!!!

Synopsis: Baxter's life is perfectly, aesthetically crafted. Until it isn't. NSFW drabble.

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Baxter Ward x Gn!Reader

̗̀➛ Content Warnings: NSFW, slight possessive language, very very brief angst (i mean, it is baxter)

̗̀➛  Additional notes: Continuing my loser men agenda with Baxter! I will write a separate post for Derek soon, but finishing two things in a row has me antsy to post this one separately. Theres bottom!Baxter if you squint, but i tried to write him as a switch so take it either direction as you will. Mostly he's just a loser who makes sex way too romantic. I love him.

Baxter wouldn't deign to call himself clingy. He was incredibly independent, really. Your relationship had taken a five year break and survived, he was perfectly content by himself.

But that didn't explain the sick thrill he gets having a clingy partner. There is something so delightfully addicting about being wanted. He loved it when he woke up to you wrapped around him, heart thundering when you burrowed closer at even the slightest twitch of movement, like you were scared he'd disappear.

That was where the thread of guilt came in. Of course you had clingy moments, he'd vanished from your life once, could you really trust him not to do it again? What did his word matter, ultimately?

It was hard not to think like that. He knew his own track record with relationships, and he wanted, more then anything, to not fuck up this one too.

It's never easy to chase those thoughts away. And yet you do it so effortlessly, with just the graze of your teeth, the scrape of your nails.

Baxter is putty in your hands when you mark him up during sex. He's obsessed with the way his pale skin looks after its been ravaged by you, admiring the scratch-marks down his back after he's fucked you, or the hickies and love-bites you've scattered across his chest. He'd let you ruin his neck with sweet bruises if it wasn't shockingly unprofessional.

I mean hickies on the wedding planner, on someone else's big day? He feels a shameful tingle of pleasure he can't deny at the thought. Baxter is so put together during the day that he absolutely falls apart at night, guided by your safe and sure hands. He cries, he begs, he sniffles as big, wet tears fill his red eyes. There was some alarm, the first time he cried during sex. The whole ordeal had been put on hold to make sure he was okay, until he'd shamefully and slowly explained to you that yes, he was perfectly fine. So, so good in fact, the tears had sprouted on an especially breathy moan.

And even though he begs so sweetly to leave your mark sometimes you handle him so tenderly and gently it sparks a whole different kind of need inside him. Love-making, he thinks, with his head nestled between you thighs, moaning with every tug of his hair, is a new world of pleasure. Miles beyond just sex.

But his favorite part of it all is the minutes just after. When he stumbles out of your arms to gleefully assess the damage, take in his tear-stained face, the pink hand prints on his hips and ass, his kissed swollen lips. The sight of it all has his spent cock twitching awake.

Just a little more, he thinks, stumbling back over to you. God his legs ache in just the best way. He's already hard again, cum beading at the tip without a care for his carefully crafted, elegant persona.

He pulls you into another kiss, sweet still, before nipping playfully at your ear.

"You've positively ruined me, dear." He purrs, a shiver of glee running through him as your hands find his hips again. "Want to do it again?"

[lustful-dungeon]

The Orc Fortress

A themed floor within the Halls of Eros, The Orc Fortress is staffed primarily with orcs (hence the name). The design of this floor is a middle ground between a mighty fortress and an imposing prison. Many of those captured early in the dungeon find themselves here at some point when their original captors tire of them, locked away in one of the many, many cells filling the Fortress. On this floor Orcs receive a slight power boost, and respawn at a faster rate, leaving the impression of there being far more than there really are.

In addition to the usual types of orcs one may find (fighters, archers, berserkers, occasionally even shamans), the Fortress holds a unique mob in the form of Orc Jailers. Armed with long poles topped with sturdy hooks, Jailers will try to limit the maneuverability of their targets, locking them in place. A single Jailer is a problem, but a team of them is truly dangerous, able to work together to hold their target in place while another slaps a pair of shackles on them. When not helping fight adventurers, Jailers are often in charge of managing the various prisoners. The boring half of this job is keeping them fed (though a diet of monster cum can be enough for some, even if it’s not preferred by many being fed it). The fun part of the job is taking them to one of the many public displays in the Fortress, everything from the wall shackles to cages, wherever one might enjoy locking up a cumdump.

A particular favorite feature for monsters (or adventurers who somehow bribe their way in to see it in action) is the Breaking Row. A frequent fate of freshly caught adventurers, this room holds a large row of pillories, leaving the captives side by side with each other, bent over at the waist for maximum humiliation. The acoustics of the room are a mixture of natural and enchanted, with the end result being that the sound of moans and flesh on flesh becomes completely overpowering, an orchestra of sex all that can be heard when the room is in full swing (and outside of major attacks, it almost always is, there’s no rest to be found here). Eros made sure to indulge a little extra sadism though: one wall of the room is a row of cells containing those scheduled to be put on the row next. Through the iron bars they can watch the fate that awaits them, and are forced to listen as cries for mercy turn into moans for more.

[mmoonpies]

Request for Rowan having such a big crush on reader and literally every single person in the entire school and town knows except her.

ahh this is basically a lot of rambling, but i really wanted to write something fluffy. so thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3

rowan laslow, in one word, was a wallflower. he stayed close to the walls, keeping his distance from the crowds and isolating himself from them when needed.

despite how much he kept his distance, you were the one thing to keep his attention. as if you were a light guiding him, rowan wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around you and hold him close to his chest and claim you as his own.

you, in one word, were lovely. brown hue's followed your every move as your eyes brightened, a smile forming on your lips while your fingers delicately spread to wave at xavier. your other hand was wrapped around a cardboard to-go cup, clearly from the weathervane.

rowan could only watch through the rim of his glasses as your weight shifted between your feet, arms slightly swinging as you walked closer towards xavier.

at this moment, rowan disappeared, nervous and skitterish as he walks back towards his next classroom with his heart racing within in his chest. he can faintly hear your voice as you begin to talk with xavier.

"come on, be serious," you rolled your eyes at xavier's insinuation, shoving him as he lets out a small laugh. "you're telling me that, rowan laslow, the 'outcast of outcasts' likes me? you're sick, xavier."

"what do you mean?! i'm 100% serious right now." xavier declares in response, rolling his eyes as you scoff and shake your head. "you're the idiot for not seeing it when literally everyone else knows."

you simply shoot up your middle finger in response as you turn your head away from him, a small playful smile playing on your lips. xavier simply shoves you before flipping you off as well, walking away from you onto his next class.

your head is almost reeling as xavier's voice plays in the back of your mind. you roll your eyes as you realise how ridiculous he sounds, clearly wanting to pull a prank on you - it's just who he is.

you walk into your class as you break away from your thoughts, briefly glancing at rowan sitting in the front row, already organised and prepared before the second bell even rings. your lips curl into an amused smile as you walk past him, not noticing the way his eyes follow you until you sit down at your allocated desk.

as soon as you sit down and rowan's eyes peel away from you, you angle your body slightly towards him. you know it's only xavier practically 'manipulating' you to think about rowan, yet you rest your cheek on your fist and look over at him.

you almost felt infatuated by the sight of him; it's only now that you realise how pretty rowan truly is. his features were soft yet defined, the childish nerdy-like personality hidden by the striking features displayed on his face.

the light shining through the glass panes forming the greenhouse you're seated in reflects off the black and gold patterns embedded into the frame of his glasses. the turtle-like pattern faintly reflects onto the back of his hand as it rests on the desk.

the bridge of his glasses rested against the protruding bridge of his nose, slowly but surely slipping as he keeps his head down. his skin resembles a milky colour, decorated with brown moles that are evenly scattered across his arms.

his hair is neatly threaded in an even side part, yet, a few strands of hair drop past the middle of his forehead. you can see the hesitance built up within his body gather in his fingertips as his eyes gently flicker across his desk, finally sensing someone's eyes on him.

you quickly look away as he finally turns his head towards you before turning back the other way once he realised you weren't looking at him. your eyes smoothly glide back over to him, having him pique your curiosity. his cheeks are now simmering with the faintest shade of pink, his face almost hidden from your view as he hides his cheeks with his palms.

you don't give it a second thought, turning away from him.

the smell of roasting coffee beans brought you comfort as you sit in a booth with enid, half-mindlessly listening to her ramble on about something. your eyes wander over to where tyler stands behind the counter, foaming milk and watching the thermometer carefully.

"how's it going with rowan?" enid suddenly inquires, almost making you choke on your spit, looking at her with an incredulous look. "what? did i say something wrong?"

you shake your head before pulling back, picking the cup back up in your hands and taking a sip. you silently wait for her to elaborate, watching as she hesitates before speaking slowly.

"you know...rowan likes you and literally everyone else knows..." she waits for you to confirm but you only shake your head and shrug. "do you seriously not know?"

as soon as enid's sentence trails off, tyler walks over, two mugs in his hands. you quietly thank him as he places the drinks down, offering you a generous smile.

"hey tyler, rowan likes y/n, right?" enid asks, giving you a mischievous yet smug look. you roll your eyes, grasping the cup and feeling comfort wash over you from the radiating heat cradled between the palms of your hands.

"yeah of course," tyler agrees, shrugging while slightly shaking his head as if she was dumb. "he's started to come in and order what you usually do, i assumed you guys were... y'know."

you stare up at tyler with disbelief, switching between enid and tyler with your mouth open. you shake your head and place your cup back down, accusingly pointing at the two of them.

"stop. i know you two are lying because of xavier, right?"

enid lays her palms across the table, the dull thud of the impact making you look around before focusing back on her. you slightly pull your head back at her intense glare, hunching your shoulders as she points a finger at you. tyler raises his eyebrows before taking a step back, raising his arms in a defensive manner.

"are you insane? literally, everyone knows but you!" she exclaims, looking at you as if you were crazy. "well, man up and go ask him!"

"no!" you exclaim back at her, looking back at her as if she were the one who was crazy. "are you insane?! I've never talked to that man in my life."

"so you don't like him?"

"i didn't say that," you mumble, crossing your arms and leaning back in the booth with a heavy sigh. enid just smiles knowingly and takes a sip of her own drink.

"exactly."

"fuck you."

you slide out of the booth and grab your cup, beckoning for enid to leave with you. irritation runs thick at enid's smug and knowing smile as she stands up beside you and giggles, making you roll your eyes once more. you keep your head down as you walk towards the exit, finally considering the possibility that what they were telling you was true.

but, how could he? you'd never held a conversation with him, only offering simple words or questions. he had never even said you're own name to you; even if he did have a crush on you, it would probably be superficial, his perspective on you made up and far apart from the real you.

the wind in your chest is almost knocked out of you as your body slams against something or someone, a burning heat flushing over your hands and arms as your body recoils back.

you finally raise your head, eyes wide as you come face to face with rowan laslow, standing there dripping with your drink. his arms are bent at the elbow, held out to the side of his body as he keeps his head down, looking down at his chest where your drink had splashed against him.

"oh my god," you whisper before frantically racing over to grab napkins from the table next to you. "oh my god, i'm so sorry rowan oh my, are you okay?!"

enid helps you by grabbing napkins, and feeding them to you as rowan can only silently watch everything go down. his mouth keeps opening and closing as your hands run over his body, dabbing the napkins against the already staining beverage.

you stand back up and look at him, eyebrows furrowed upwards as worry creases over your face, eyes scanning his own face. his cheeks are flushed red as he stares at you, yet, you brush it off as embarrassment.

"rowan, are you okay? i didn't hurt you, did i?" the worry in your voice and on your face makes his chest swell, knowing that it's for him. "rowan?"

"um, yeah," he mumbles, still staring at you as if you weren't real. "yeah! yeah, I'm okay."

you take a step back, resting the back of your hand against your forehead as you sigh. the stain on his clothes just is not going away, seeping further into the material as it dries.

"fuck rowan, i'm so sorry," you desperately apologise, staring down at the ruined and wet napkins in your hands. "it's not coming out - shit!."

"it's okay," rowan senses your distress, wiping his hands on his pants and smiling at you. "it'll come out when i wash them, it's okay!"

you close your eyes, almost feeling like you want to cry from guilt. you pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head before sighing and throwing the napkins out. enid pats your shoulder comfortingly, whispering 'it's okay' before throwing out the rest of the napkins.

"can i make it up to you? um, we can go back to my dorm and clean your shirt up, i feel really bad. i'm so sorry, rowan." rowan lets out a small chuckle and you swear it's the prettiest laugh you've ever heard.

"yes! rowan, you're coming with us to y/n's dorm," enid immediately butts in before rowan can even begin to think of formulating a response. "come on!"

rowan's in disbelief; unable to even process what was happening as he stands in your dorm room. enid had recently left because she "had things to do," leaving you and rowan alone in your room.

rowan peels off his hoodie to your request, his shirt trailing up below his waistline. you try to not stare at the exposed skin, cheeks warming at the sight before you quickly avert your eyes. rowan awkwardly hands over his hoodie, watching you dump it in the water-filled sink, leaving it to soak.

"i know you're probably sick of hearing me say it, but i truly am sorry," you repeat once more as you beckon for him to sit above your closed toilet, wetting a washcloth. "i should've been looking and-"

"forgive me for interrupting, but, y/n, i promise it's fine," he quietly comforts you, despite feeling awkward sitting in your bathroom. you offer him a gentle smile before gripping his wrist so softly it makes his skin tingle.

you slide the cool washcloth over his arm, soothing the pink skin. you both bask in the quiet as you care for him, alleviating the burning sensation over his arm. the moment is tender; cheeks warm as your eyes constantly search for the others, yet, they tentatively drop back down to the floor once they meet.

you drop his arm before holding the other in your hand once more, running the washcloth over it. you're both in an almost dissociative state, hardly unable to gather your thoughts as the other sits in your company. the one sentence you both unknowingly share is:

what a weird first interaction.

once you're sure his skin has calmed down, you press a gentle fingertip to the tender skin, carefully studying his expression as you search for even a glimpse of pain. yet, his face is calm, held with such content that it makes your chest swell with warmth.

his eyes flicker over to yours at the first indication of you staring, holding your gaze. you let your fingertips glide back down his arm, landing on his wrist before dropping his arm. his spine shivers at the soft feeling of your fingertips dancing across his arm, cheeks growing warmer.

"rowan," you whisper, keeping your eyes on him. "do you like me?"

his heart skips a beat, his stomach feeling hollow as his eyes widen. his lips part softly as he tries to rack his mind for an explanation, fingers twitching as he hesitates to answer you. he only looks away, sucking in a harsh breath as your hands decide to rest on his knees.

"rowan?" you gently coax, sliding your hands further up his knees. his cheeks are almost crimson, heart thumping against his ribcage.

"yes..." his confession is so quiet you almost don't hear it, his head still turned away from you. "yes i do."

you're silent for a moment, humming in response as your hands slide off him. you stand up, quietly hanging up the damp washcloth as you try to think of how to approach your next move. rowan's palms grow clammy as sweat drips from his pores, anticipation and anxiety swirling in his chest.

you turn around to face him, leaning your hands behind you on the basin. you smile at how nervous he looks, a gentle warmth glowing in your chest, just for him.

"how about we just start with a date?"

his eyes are wide, cheeks radiating warmth as they practically glow red. his mouth opens before closing, a shy smile spreading across his lips as he looks down at the floor before looking back up at you, his voice soft as he speaks.

"i'd really like that."

[falconcoast]

new year’s kiss | tighnari x reader

a part of the tighnari college/modern au - part iv.

it’s new year’s eve. you and tighnari slip out of a party to celebrate the new year on your own. 

a/n: i got an ask asking for christmas tighnari but i didn’t look at my inbox until recently TT_TT forgive me!! anyways happy birthday to my favorite boy!!

warnings: alcohol is mentioned briefly!

partying and drinking on akademiya grounds was not on tighnari’s bucket list, but it sure seemed like it was on yours.

there was only half an hour left until midnight, indicating the start of the new year. quite frankly, he didn’t understand the need to go out and party for a celebration as simple as new year’s eve. he could do that in the comforts of your shared apartment, thank you very much.

nonetheless, he was still at some acquaintance’s house in the suburbs of the city, sitting on the couch. he cringed as a couple got fairly handsy next to him, and he scooted away. sighing, he pressed a finger to his temples to ease the headache he knew was coming on.

he had lost you a while ago. you two had stuck together like glue (much to his friend’s noticed teasing) until you went to talk to some other friends and disappeared into the crowd. tighnari’s mood was noticeably sour after that.

the heat of the room became unbearable for him. close proximity to everyone made his ears twitch with displeasure. standing, he got up and wriggled his way outside of the house. sumeru was mild at the end of the year, where the air was neither warm nor cold. he crossed his arms in an attempt to sustain warmth. sitting on the sidewalk, he languidly stretched. the other condos down the block were alight, warm light illuminating the dark night. at the end of the neighborhood, he could see a few families celebrating in their front yards.

“thought i might find you out here,” a voice announced from behind him.

turning, he was pleasantly surprised to see you behind him. “y/n,” he breathed softly. “i thought you’d be the type to stay inside. you were the one who wanted to be at this party in the first place.”

“it isn’t much of a party if my favorite person isn’t there,” you shrugged. before tighnari could even react, you crouched down and offered him a hand. he took it gratefully. playing with your still-entwined hands, you looked at him curiously. “do you wanna take a walk?”

“sure,” he accepted. neither of you made a motion to break away from the other’s touch.

the walk began without much fanfare. to quell the awkwardness, you spoke up.

“so…” you began as you both trailed down the path. “did you know there are gonna be a few fireworks set off at midnight?”

“really?” tighnari responded, tilting his head. “i didn’t know.”

“yeah, it’ll be really nice. it’s down the road from here, if you want to see them. i think it’ll be far enough that your ears won’t hurt.”

“that would be nice,” he agreed.

leading him along the path, you walked out of the neighborhood with him. the suburbs revealed another endless row of houses. you weaved in and out of the streets, happily recounting your night out. he stared as you dragged him along, admiring the way that the night contoured your features softly and the wind accompanied your voice.

“is there something on my face?” you asked when you turned and looked at him.

“no!” he replied instantly, smacking a hand over his mouth. you laughed at his flusteredness.

“well, if you were getting bored, we’re almost there,” you cheered, pushing him on further.

eventually, you came across a park, where a hill sloped above a playground and trees. it was empty, as everyone else was home to celebrate. a sea of dainty flowers decorated the hill; white carnations, he recognized. they waved in the breeze, jostled by a passing wind.

stopping, you stared at your roommate deviously. “what now?” he asked, tilting his head.

kicking off your shoes, you picked them up and took off. “race you!” you exclaimed. with a laugh, you ran up the hill, threading through the flowers and rushing past the thicket.

chuckling, he chose not to race you, but to walk up the hill steadily. clearly, when you wanted something, you couldn’t be stopped. he took his time to get to the top, taking in the sound of the grass crushed under his feet and the floral scent of the carnations.

when he arrived, you were sprawled out on the dirt, as if trying to become one with the earth. your eyes were closed as if you were asleep. he admired you for a moment, before quickly snapping out of it.

he took a seat next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. “you’re going to be sore when we have to climb down and go back home, you know,” he astutely observed.

“oh, shut up,” you remarked, but there was no bite in your voice. sitting up, you scooted closer to him. “so, do you have any new year’s resolutions?”

“not particularly,” he shrugged his shoulders.

that was a lie. he wanted to be bolder with your relationship, to actually be able to say his feelings towards you. long before you moved into your shared apartment, tighnari recognized that he felt something different for you. after nearly two years, he realized that something had to change.

“oh, really?” you replied. “me neither.”

you twisted a carnation out of the ground, so focused that you didn’t even react when another cool breeze swept by. his ear twitched and his tail wagged slightly.

you were lying. he chose not to call you out on it.

it started softly, but he could hear it: the soft chant of a countdown. at the same time, you looked at your phone. “it’s 11:59,” you stated, looking at him. chuckling softly, you continued to play with the flower. “i bet everyone is dragging someone to have their new year’s kiss.”

thinking of his resolution, his ears and tail became pin-straight. “it’s important to honor tradition,” he said.

“wait, are you saying what i think you’re saying?” you asked, turning to face him. “are you asking me to be your new year’s kiss?”

clearing his throat, he covered his face to hide his blush. it was not very often that he had to explain himself, especially when it came to important matters like yourself. “n-no?” he squeaked out pathetically, attempting to backtrack. “i was just saying that it’s interesting that people kissing on new year’s eve happens to be tradition.”

raising an eyebrow, you got ever closer to him. “that’s not what you said,” you pointed out softly. “you said it was important to honor tradition, the tradition of kissing to welcome in the new year. we better do our part, right?”

if he could, he would have taken off, running down that hill. paralyzed by your gaze, he could only sit and stare in place. the tone of your voice meant that you didn’t just mean that you wanted to fulfill a tradition, but you earnestly wanted to kiss him. you looked at him expectantly and then pulled back. “sorry,” you said, a bashful look on your face. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to. we can just watch the fireworks.”

“wait--” he attempted to say. you turned to look at him, eyes wide with a glimmer of hope. the countdown was nearing its end, and he made up his mind.

his thoughts scrambled around as if trying to rationalize what he was about to do. while your offer was romantic, what if you truly meant that you just wanted to kiss him for the tradition? what if it was so bad that you were going to leave your apartment the next day? what if you didn’t like him back when he was pouring all of his emotions into one action? what if your friendship was forever ruined because he had run his mouth?

placing a hand on your cheek, he heard the sharp whistle of a firework going off. as if on the beat, he softly pressed his lips against yours as the sky illuminated with a golden shimmer. smiling, you reciprocated the action with equal fervor. it was awkward and new and nothing that he expected it to be, but he found himself enjoying it nonetheless.

pulling back, you shyly looked to the ground. he tucked his knees to his chest and attempted to calm his beating heart. the dynamic of your friendship changed forever at that moment. resolving not to talk about what just happened, you sprawled out on the grass again. softly, you pulled on his arm and encouraged him to lie down on the ground beside you. he did so, enjoying your presence beside him. the quiet was filled with repeated explosions of fireworks.

looking over at you, your eyes were glued to the colorful display in front of you. before long, your gaze caught his. turning to face you completely, he picked up another flower and placed it behind your ear. you grinned, admiring it with soft affection. your hand inched close to his own but didn’t touch it.

“happy new year, ‘nari,” you whispered.

imagine if they still didn’t get together after this under the pretext that “everyone kisses their best friend on new year’s if they don’t a partner” laugh out loud

[the-clockwork-three]

The Howl cardigan is done!! Featuring my full Howl Pendragon cosplay

[Image ID: the first image is of a hand made crop-top length patchwork cardigan. The front is made of light pink and purple checker with a yellow trim. The sleeves have a checker of pink and the second colour goes from light purple, to wine, to bright pink. The cuffs are cream and yellow.

The second picture is of the back of the cardigan. The back has a purple and blue checker, and the sleeves are the same.

The third picture is of a person wearing a jacket. They are pale skinned with long dark hair. they are also wearing a frilly white shirt, black trousers, black boots, gold rings, a blue neck lace, and have a pink star shaped necklace hanging form their waist. Their face is not visible. End ID]

Some close up pics of some of my favourite parts, goofy pics and general rambling below the cut.

The jacket weighs 330g (0.73 pound), and is made up of 92 squares each measuring 3.5 x 3.5 inches. It is Really Warm, but not very itchy (except for the wine in the sleeves because it's actual wool and not just plastic). It took me about six months to make in its entirety, but I did take several breaks so it probably wasn't that long. I think the most squares I made in a day was 8.

This was my first time making clothes (except for a wrist warmer which doesn't count because it was just an excuse to practice knit stitch) and I'm super proud of how it turned out. Anyway I'm pretty sure the yellow for the trim and cuffs is the same yarn I used in my very first project (the aforementioned wrist warmer) like ten years ago.

I'm not wearing a wig due to sensory issues and the fact I cannot style my own hair and you want to trust me with a wig??? Also I think my natural hair is Very Howl

I might make the body one or two rows longer but that's a quest for future me. I never want to see a 3.5 inch square again right now.

[Image ID: a photo of the same person in the same outfit as above. They are are standing differently and the jacket ends higher on their body. The image cuts off at the knees. End ID]

I really like this picture. The vibe is right. But the jacket rode up and looks bad. Because the main point of this post is to show off the jacket it didn't feel right to use this as the main pic. But just know, This photo rocks imo.

[Image ID: The first picture is of a little jar full of blue yarn scarps, with black yarn tied around the neck, and beads hanging from the black yarn. The second is of a blue bead hanging from an ear. The bead appears twice in the image due to the fact it is swinging. End ID]

A couple months ago one of my favourite bracelets exploded (as cheap bracelets are wont to do). So I reused the beads in other jewellery, for this project and in others.

The earrings are just beads on clear thread hooked over the ear, but what's cool is that every time you try to take a close-up picture of them, they swing so fast they show up in the picture twice.

[Image ID: a brown stuffed alpaca with the pink and purple jacket hung over its shoulders and a pink star necklace around its neck. End ID]

Calcifer the alpaca has claimed his rightful crown. Also the pink star necklace represents Calcifer in this outfit

[Image ID: Three close ups of squares from the cardigan. The first in a pink square with a darker pink swan embroidered onto it. The second is a purple square with an eye shaped pattern in the middle and a blue pupil. The third is a pink knitted square with large round bumps sticking out from it. End ID]

My favourite squares. The Na Daoine Maithe one in the sleeve, the Magnus Archives one on the back, and the bitch that gave me 14 heart attacks to only end up "okay looking". But it is Tactile so it gets a pass.

[mimisempai]

Don't give up on us

Summary:

Gavin thinks it's the best thing for Nines to let him go so he decides to break up. Will Nines let him do it and give up without a fight. Maybe a little push will be needed…

Notes:

Just so you know, I only write happy ending…

On AO3

Rating G - 1948 words

Gavin rubbed his eyes, stretched and slowly sat up. 

He reached his arm over, out of habit. 

The space next to him was empty. 

Because Gavin had done the right thing. 

He stood up, walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked at his reflection in the mirror without seeing it.  

"I just think it's wiser to stop things before they go too far." 

"We've been together for over a year, we've already gone too far," Nines had responded.

"We are too different. I do not wish to stand in your way. "

"In my way? I don't understand Gavin?" Gavin could sense the incomprehension in Nines' voice.

"I do not wish to be a burden to you. "

"Gavin, how can you say that? " The voice was now pleading.

"I'm saying that we should... that it's in our best interest to... "

"You're breaking up with me. Say it. You've never been shy about saying things bluntly, so say it."

"Yes, I want us to break up, before it hurts too much."

He saw Nines' features contort with anger. His gaze was as cold as ice.

"You'll thank me eventually...it's the right thing to do."

"How can I thank you when you sacrifice me and our love on the altar of your fears. I thought you said I had the choice to do what I wanted with my life, but do you realize you just took that choice away from me?"

Gavin hadn't responded and had remained in the middle of the living room until Nines walked out, closing the door. And though he closed it softly, without slamming it, the sound echoed in Gavin's mind for a long time.

Gavin got through that day and the next. 

The apartment was filled with Nines' absence, so Gavin spent even more time at work to avoid feeling it. He knew Nines' things needed to be packed, but the thought of touching anything that evoked her presence, or rather lack thereof, made him sick. 

"Go home!" Hank ordered him out for the third day in a row that Gavin came to their house so he wouldn't have to go home. 

"This isn't home for me anymore..." muttered Gavin.

"This is your fault, dumbass!" 

Hank knew all about their breakup and had called Gavin an idiot more than once. "Go to sleep and think about the shit you've done. Reed, what possessed you to do that?"

Gavin shook his head, "You wouldn't understand."

"Really? You don't think I tried to get Connor to leave too because I was sure it was better for him? But then again, he pointed out that it was selfish because I was doing it without regard to his feelings and his ability to decide."

Gavin headed for the door to leave, "It's too late now. He'll never forgive me."

"It's never too late to fix a mistake. Before you leave, let me ask you a question."

Gavin looked up at him as he waited.

"Do you think you were happy? Not you or him, but the two of you, together?"

Gavin swallowed and nodded.

In a rare gesture on his part, Hank put his hand on his arm, "So don't ruin this happiness for a few doubts. We both know that life is hanging by a thread, so don't ruin this chance."

Gavin, with a lump in his throat, looked at his colleague and now friend with gratitude in his eyes. 

They didn't need words.

Hank smiled gently at him and said, "Go ahead, dickhead."

Moments later, Gavin was walking home. 

Once he closed the door, he realized he wasn't alone because he heard voices coming from the living room.

"Nines, did you even read all those books?" asked a voice Gavin knew. Connor.

"Almost all of them," Nines replied in a weary voice, and Gavin froze, "The ones I haven't read belong to Gavin, all of my books he gifted me because..."

Because I wanted him to know what it felt like to hold a book in his hands instead of in his head.

"He seemed to really care about you." said Connor's soft voice

" Yes, it was... rather unexpected," Nines said, and Gavin could hear the sadness in Nines' voice.

"You two seemed to complement each other so well despite your obvious differences."

"Sometimes that's not enough," Nines replied softly.

Connor didn't seem to hear her and continued, "You know for someone who is stingy with compliments like Gavin, he's pretty vocal when it comes to talking about your qualities."

"Shut up." Nines mumbled. 

What did I do?

"Gavin loves me, I know that," Nines resumed softly. "It's just that... Like I told you, apparently it's not enough for him. It's not enough to give him a reason to fight."

"Nines," Connor continued, "I know what you're going through, in the grand scheme of things, I went through more or less the same thing with Hank. He did everything he could to get me to leave him. But I didn't let go, because I was sure of my feelings and his. So why are you letting Gavin break up with you? For the last three days you've been a shadow of yourself. You have to fight for him too. You both love each other. Everyone close to you can see that."

"Apparently, Gavin is blind," Nines said bitterly. 

Connor didn't answer and sighed.

Gavin decided it was time to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and headed into the living room. "Hi guys!"

"Gavin!" Nines turned around, "I was just putting some things away. I thought you'd be home later."

"I decided to come home early today."

Gavin saw with his own eyes that Nines was indeed a shadow of himself, as Connor had said, of course he didn't bear the physical traces of it but everything in his attitude betrayed his sadness. 

And I'm the one responsible for it. 

By thinking he was acting for Nines' happiness, he had only made him miserable. Nines was right, he had been blind. The extent of his mistake was clear to him now. He took a step toward Nines, then became aware of Connor's presence.

"Connor... are you..."

"I'm leaving." He paused, looked at Nines, and his LED turned yellow for a moment before returning to its blue glow.

[Fight for it.]

Nines nodded and Connor walked away.

Gavin waited for the front door to close. 

"Nines... I… fuck, I'm sorry, I made a big mistake."

"You think?" Nines replied in a bitter tone.

"I'm sure you did. I lost faith in us for a while because I overheard a conversation I probably shouldn't have had. People were comparing us and saying that I was no good for you. That I was holding you back. I could only see my flaws, I could only see how I could possibly hurt you. I didn't realize... I didn't know... I couldn't see what I could offer you anymore. I always... always destroy everything. I scare everyone away so I thought I'd better get you out of here before you leave me" Gavin couldn't hold back his words, nor his tears, so desperate was he to convince Nines. 

"I love you with all my being, Nines. Without you, nothing has meaning, taste, flavor, light. And I realize that I am no longer able to live without you, so even though it makes me selfish, please Nines, come back to me. Stay with me."

Never had he felt so naked. So raw. And it was terrifying. 

It was as if he had put his heart on the floor and Nines had a choice of picking it up or stepping on it.

Nines walked over to him and took his hand, "Gavin, how can you think you're not good for me? If you are not good for me, then no one is. You are not perfect? You have flaws? But everyone has them, even perfectly designed machines like me. I may be a baby when it comes to age, but I know that these last few months with you I was happy. We are different. Sometimes we clash rather violently. But I don't want to leave, because I am happy. You make me happy." Tears were also streaming down Nines' cheeks. He continued, his voice hesitant, "Even when you broke up with me, I knew you loved me and I didn't stop loving you." 

Gavin clasped his hand in hers, "Nines, I'm so sorry for the hurt I caused you, for acting like an idiot. For letting myself be blinded."

Nines nodded, "Absolutely, you acted like a real idiot, a fucking idiot as Hank would say, but the harm you did, you did to both of us. You know, for a long time I thought I would be the one who would do the first wrong move, say the wrong word or do the wrong thing so that you would want to leave me, because you would get tired of my android side, because I don't know the first thing about life, for a lot of other reasons. I didn't think you'd be the one to make me leave."

Gavin took Nines' face in his hands and rested his forehead against his. Eyes to eyes, he said in a clear voice. "I am so so sorry."

"You really hurt me you know." whispered Nines

"I know, and I'll do anything to make it up to you if you'll give me a chance."

"How about you start now?" joked Nines, who leaned in until his mouth was inches from Gavin's.

Gavin closed the distance then pressed his lips to Nines'. Tentatively, hesitantly, as if it were the first time. As if he were asking permission. Then, overcome with emotion, he buried his face in Nines' neck and whispered over and over, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Nines, forgive me. I love you. I love you so much"

Nines tightened his arms around him and kissed the top of his head then whispered against his hair, "I love you Gavin. I love everything about you. And I can't stand one more day of life without you. "

"I love you," Gavin repeated as he exhaled.

Nines took Gavin by the hand and led him to the couch, where he sat him down, then got into his favorite position, with his head in Gavin's lap. This time he faced Gavin and wrapped his arms around his waist before whispering against his belly, "Don't ever do this to me again, Gavin. Promise me you'll never give up on us."

"Never again," Gavin promised, "I swear." He leaned in and placed a long kiss on Nines' forehead.

They stayed like that for a long moment, savoring the moment, each other's presence, and the relief of regaining what they had almost lost. 

**********

A little later in their home, Connor and Hank, snuggled together on the couch, were sharing a quiet moment. Connor broke the silence, "Do you think they're going to be okay?".

Hank didn't need to ask who he was talking about and was about to answer when his phone vibrated beside him. He picked it up.

I never thought I would 

ever recognize you as the 

voice of reason, but I must 

humbly admit, this time

 you were, you old fart. 

Thanks 

G. Your favorite asshole

Received at 8:30 pm

Hank chuckled and tightened his arm around Connor's shoulders, then placed a kiss on his hair before saying softly, "I think they're going to be okay."

At that moment Connor's LED flickered before returning to blue.

[Everything's fine. Thank you.]

Connor tightened his arms around Hank and whispered, "I think so too."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Reed900 masterlist here

[jaybear1701]

March 29, 1970

Astronauts are a rare breed, and Pam is still amazed that she, of all people, has a front row seat to the American heroes. A rather unique one at that, where she bears witness to facets usually shrouded from the rest of the country, catching glimpses of what lies beneath the carefully curated air of confidence and capability.

For all the stoicism of the likes of an Ed Baldwin, or the laid-back charm of a Gordo Stevens, there’s a thread of vulnerability that ties them together, tense and taut. It emerges as the nights wear on, and the liquor flows freely. Pam has bent her ear long enough to recognize it for what it is–an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite hours upon hours of meticulous preparation that can stretch for months or even years, the precariousness of their jobs means it could all go belly up without a moment’s notice. 

She observes this uncertainty–this fear –even in the ASCANs, every time they walk into The Outpost with one less candidate in tow. Pam makes sure to give an extra generous pour of whiskey whenever she sees the exhaustion in Tracy Stevens’ eyes or the weariness in Danielle Poole’s polite smile. Tries to make the already taciturn Ellen Waverly laugh whenever she folds ever inward into quiet solitude.

Yes, Pam knows the weakness of these titans of space. They know she knows. And though she’s an ally, and not quite a friend, her discretion makes her an honorary member of their exclusive club. But sometimes that privilege can be a bit too much. Too overwhelming to play unofficial therapist as she fixes cocktails and cracks open beer bottles for hours on end.

And so, she welcomes the breaks, and doesn’t hesitate to accept when her boss tells her to clock out early on a slow Sunday afternoon. It’s Easter after all, and even the astronauts know better than to spend it away from their families.

Pam’s halfway out the door, already in her own little world, when she nearly bumps into someone while crossing the threshold.

“Pam, hi.” Ellen, startled, takes a step back as Pam exits and lets the door swing shut behind her.

“Hey,” Pam greets, stomach fluttering in pleasant surprise.

In jeans and a white blouse, Ellen’s the most casual Pam’s ever seen her. She takes in Pam’s denim jacket and the purse slung over her shoulder. “You, uh, heading out?”

“Yeah.” Pam nods. “Got a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card for the rest of the day.”

“Oh.” 

Pam’s not sure if the flash of disappointment in Ellen’s brown eyes is a figment of her imagination. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a holiday.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Ellen shrugs sheepishly. “Took a walk and just ended up here, I guess.” 

Pam gives an exaggerated grimace. “I don’t know whether that’s sweet or sad.”

Ellen laughs. “Definitely the latter, for sure.”

Of all the ASCANs, Ellen’s the one Pam knows the least about. Not that she hasn’t been curious to know more about the introverted trainee. She knows better than to push, preferring to let people open up at their own pace. But when an opening presents itself…

“Won’t your family wonder where you are?” Pam ventures.

“Ah, family’s back in Connecticut.” Ellen slips her hands in her back pockets. “So…” 

She’s alone , Pam realizes with a swell of sympathy, and before she can think better of it, she blurts out, “You should come with me.”

Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up. “W-where?”

“Anywhere’s gotta be better than here.” Pam doesn’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. But it just feels right . “I mean, unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday in this shithole. No judgment.”

To Pam’s relief, the corners of Ellen’s lips curl up. “Lead the way.”

It’s a beautiful spring day in Houston, still pleasantly cool as the days creep toward the heat of summer. Pam brings Ellen to her favorite park, where budding trees line the banks of a small pond in bright pastels of pink and green and white. The sun glints off the rippling water and, judging by the way Ellen’s eyes light up, Pam knows she made the right decision.

“So, how’s training going?” Pam asks as they walk side-by-side along a paved path that winds around the pond, taking their time.

“It’s…” Ellen squints into the distance before glancing sidelong at Pam. “Don’t you get tired of us unloading on you?”

The question catches Pam off-guard, and she doesn’t answer right away. “No one’s, um, ever asked me that.”

“Probably because a lot of us are narcissistic assholes,” Ellen says the expletive so matter-of-factly that Pam can’t help but laugh. “It’s true! You know it.”

“Not all of you.” Pam nudges Ellen’s shoulder with her own. “Listening’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t get tired of it,” Ellen points out, prompting a noncommittal hum from Pam. “I could go on and on about how it’s tough and stressful, but I’m guessing you’ve heard it all before. I’d rather know more about you.”

“I’m really not that interesting,” Pam deflects even as warmth prickles up the back of her neck.

“Try me.” Ellen looks at her with such open, genuine interest that Pam caves. She’s not quite sure what it is about Ellen that makes her want to open up, but she does and she goes with the flow.

She leads them to a row of empty benches situated beneath pergolas covered in plants that twist up and around wooden posts to create a tangled rooftop of sweet-scented blooms. 

“Let’s see.” Pam takes a seat and angles herself toward Ellen, who mirrors her. Their knees are almost close enough to touch. “Grew up in a small town outside of Austin. Got my bachelor’s in English from UT, to my parents’ deep and never-ending chagrin.”

“Which part didn’t they like, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ellen tilts her head to the side, curiosity etched across her pretty features.

“Take your pick. It was bad enough their only daughter wanted to go to college–because a woman’s place is always in the home, of course,” Pam rolls her eyes, “But she also had to go and pick a quote-unquote ‘useless’ degree.”

“It’s not useless,” Ellen says sincerely, once again surprising Pam. 

“Thanks, but I know it’s not exactly practical. I mean, not like an engineering degree or anything.”

“Engineering’s overrated.” 

Pam wrinkles her nose, incredulous. “Says the woman who’ll be up in space mapping out the universe in a few years.” 

“I’m serious,” Ellen insists. “Outer space is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I think people get too caught up in the external, when there’s still so much left unexplored within humanity’s…” Her hands grasp at the air as if the right words hang invisibly around them. “I don’t know… innerspace? And the arts navigate it.”

Lips parted, Pam is left speechless and, if she’s honest, a bit flattered.

“God, that’s cheesy, isn’t it?” Ellen winces.

“No, that’s…” Without thinking, Pam reaches out and brushes her fingers against Ellen’s knee. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Gaze drifting down toward the brief touch, Ellen clears her throat and looks out toward the water, seemingly fascinated by a family of ducks floating along the surface. “You’re welcome.” A light shade of pink dusts her cheeks. “And so you ended up in Houston because?”

“Isn’t it every little girl’s dream to sling drinks in a NASA watering hole?”

Ellen chuckles. “Definitely was mine. Except I wanted to do it on the moon.”

Pam shakes her head, amused, very much enjoying this playful side of the normally staid astronaut candidate. Truthfully, Pam’s not even sure herself anymore why she’s remained in Houston. What had seemed like a good idea after college has slowly faded in the wake of her ongoing indecision about what exactly she wanted in life. 

“I figured Houston’s not too far from home,” she finally says. “But far enough away that I can figure out my shit without my parents’ constant disappointment.”

Ellen ducks her head, dark hair partly obscuring the wistful expression on her face. “I get that.”

Pam stifles a sudden and unexpected urge to smooth Ellen’s hair back behind her ear. She leans back and crosses her arms, to prevent herself from doing something monumentally stupid. “Are you saying your parents aren’t thrilled their daughter could be the first American woman in space?”

“Yes,” Ellen answers candidly. “And no. My parents are definitely proud. Supportive, even. But I also know they wouldn’t complain if I just settled down, got married, and helped with the family business.” Her voice is soft in its resignation, and Pam can’t help but empathize. 

“Expectations are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Ellen laughs, the sound musical, and Pam’s heart throbs without warning. “Yes,” she turns her head to capture Pam’s gaze. “Yes, they are.”

Ellen’s always been pretty–Pam’s not blind. But in the sunlight filtering through the canopy above them, she’s particularly radiant, and Pam quickly forces herself to tamp down on the warmth spreading through her chest. This isn’t the right time or place, and most definitely isn’t the right person, for those sort of feelings. 

“I, um, I’m glad I bumped into you today,” Pam says to fill the silence stretching slowly between them, self-consciously brushing her bangs to the side.

“Me too.” Ellen looks out over the water once again, wistful. “I had no idea this was even here.”  

“It’s not like you all have a lot of time to sightsee,” Pam points out. “But if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

“Not sure about a tour guide,” Ellen glances at her, almost shyly, out of the corner of her eye, “but I wouldn’t say no to a friend.” 

Pam pretends to mull it over. “Yeah, I guess I could put up with you. Until you move to space, that is.”

“Oh, well, thanks for doing me that favor.”

“Don’t mention it, but don’t think this means you’ll get free drinks or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ellen says with a gentle smile. 

Pam returns it, trying but failing to ignore just how light her heart feels. 

[binary5tar1117]

Cold Brains, Warm Hearts

Chapter 1: Saaaaaffffe

Pairing: Yoonmin (Yoongi/Jimin)

Genre/AU: Warm Bodies AU, Horror Romance

Rating: M for mature, R

Warnings/Tags: Violence and gore, Zombies, Minor character death, unfinished (in that there are unlikely to be more chapters)

Summary:  Yoongi is just minding his own business, going about his life, when he happens to meet Jimin, the most beautiful human he's ever seen. Though, "going about his life" is more like wandering in aimless undead shambles around a mall as a literal zombie. And "he happens to meet" is really closer to he and the other zombies try to eat Jimin and his friends brains. But eventually they all live, like actually live, happily ever after! AKA An AU based on the movie/book Warm Bodies

A/N: Written for Day 7 of a 30 days of drabbles event @thirtydaysofdrabbles The word was “zombified”. I’m so horribly behind but I’m still pecking away at some! Also, while it was supposed to be a drabble its more like a chapter one of a potentially longer fic. I’m soooooo terrible at finishing longer fics though that I want to warn people that it is very unlikely it will ever be finished. I think it’s kinda cute just as a chapter 1 though. ALSO....I never actually name Jimin but it’s Yoonmin so the pretty boy Yoongi meets is Jimin.

Link: AO3

Yoongi wasn’t sure how long he’d been zombified. That was one of the many fun parts of being a zombie, there wasn’t really much of a past or a future, just the unending drudgery of now. Occasionally he’d have flickers of memories from life but never anything specific. He mostly flitted from one whim to another as he wandered the mall he unlived in. Sometimes he’d sit at the dust covered tables in the coffee shop or run his hands along the rows of records in the music store. 

Yoongi wasn’t the only zombie whose whims seemed to take him to places he must have been familiar with in life. He regularly saw a zombie in a dirty apron prowling around behind the counters in the food court and another in the tech store with black plastic framed glasses and a fedora seemingly pondering the broken displays. 

It’s also how he made his only friend, if the undead were capable of making friends. All they could really do was sit next to each other and grunt, only occasionally managing an actual word. He didn’t know his name. Something that started with an N. He never got further than “Nnnng” when trying to say it. Still, Yoongi considered them friends. They frequented the same haunts and occasionally shared their taste in music when they were feeling particularly wordy.

“Ugh,” Yoongi grunted. He pointed, with his whole hand since articulation could be hard, at an album showing some generic looking guy attempting to be generically sexy in a generically green shirt. He didn’t remember the artist's name but he could remember the annoying break up song he was most famous for.

N grunted his disgusted agreement and pointed to a different album, this time black with pink horses on it. 

Yoongi jerkily nodded his head. “Nyuuuuugh.” He tried to say nice but words never seemed to make it to his mouth. N grimaced, his upper lip pulling back awkwardly in a way Yoongi suspected was supposed to be a smile. 

They may have had this exact exchange before and it had been lost in the sludge that was their brains. It didn’t matter, once forgotten, they’d do it over again but the vague sense of “friend” would still linger. 

Yoongi sometimes wondered if they had been friends before their undeath. It seemed unlikely. N was wearing the remnants of a suit, black slacks grimy with age and who knew what else. Yoongi on the other hand had on a tattered oversized hoodie with headphones around his neck. N probably wouldn’t have given Yoongi the time of day if they were alive, but who knows. He still couldn’t give him the time of day now that they were undead.

The worst part of being a zombie though was the hunger. It would rear up out of nowhere and spread between the zombies in the mall like the plague that had initially killed them. They would start to congregate together and the groaning and growling would get louder and more frenzied until one of them would stumble toward and exit and the rest would follow. 

And so the hunt began. 

They ambled around in the group trying to find a whiff of life to follow. It wasn’t so much a smell as a feeling. Maybe the same feeling that pulled them to what they’d done as humans pulled them to humans themselves. 

So when they finally found a trickle of that golden thread, they picked up their pace as much as they could and followed it.

A group of humans were tearing through boxes in a warehouse. They called back and forth to each other in playful tones. Yoongi hated that he had no control over the hunger, once it kicked in and locked on, his little bubble of consciousness was just along for the ride. He could only watch as the humans realized too late the horde of zombies was on them. They fled; they fought. It was bloody and gory. Yoongi mostly tried to block it out. 

A few escaped but a couple went down. It was enough for the group of zombies to feast on. Descending on the poor human and tearing him to shreds. Yoongi was among them, and among the luckiest. He managed to get a few spongey handfuls of brain. 

As much as he hated the hunger and hunting and the violence and mess of it all, eating human brain was the best feeling. Whatever spark or energy it was that drew zombies to hunt the living, it emanated from the brain. One tender mouthful filled Yoongi’s senses with life, the life of the person he consumed. Visions of little league games and homemade cookies danced in his mind. 

He felt a little guilty though. If they left they brain alone, he'd rise again as one of them. If the brain is what stored that spark of life, both for humans and zombies, it meant without a brain he was truly gone for good.

Filled with the energy of the hunt, he stuffed a few handfuls in his pockets, guilt or not. He would savor them later, truly relish getting lost in the images that dances in his mind like a good drug. 

The few bites of brain filled him up quicker so he was among the first to stand up, blood still dripping from his hands and mouth. He wanted to wipe it away but he didn’t really have the coordination for it. He ambled among the boxes waiting for the others to finish. And that’s when he saw him. A human, hiding curled in a box, his eyes wide with fear. 

Beautiful. Yoongi had forgotten the concept of beauty until he saw the human but there was no other word Yoongi could have used to describe him. His delicate features and soft hair, and most importantly the feeling he gave Yoongi. All humans had a spark of life but this one… it shown so bright Yoongi didn’t even feel the need to attack in order to feel satiated by it. 

A snarl from the feeding reminded Yoongi even if he had no urge to eat this one, the others might. He couldn’t allow that. Yoongi approached the human in a slow shuffle. He looked up, and gathered his breath for a scream. Yoongi brought his finger to his lips as best he could and shook his head. The human made a choked sound but didn’t scream. 

Yoongi got closer and crouched in front of him. Up close he had to blink for a second. The human was covered in sweat and grime and blood and looking at Yoongi is such shock and horror, he shouldn’t still be beautiful and yet he was. And he shone. 

Yoongi had to do something to keep the others from eating him. He smeared some blood from his hands across the humans face. The human shuddered and whimpered softly. It helped some but Yoongi needed more. He wiped his hand through a cut he’d gotten on his arm from the fight earlier. It was slowly oozing his own congealed black blood. He spread that across the human’s chest. It seemed to work better so Yoongi put more on him until the stench of death covered the human’s spark of life. 

“Ssssaaaagghhhhhffffff,” Yoongi groaned. He frowned. He could almost feel the word slowly making its way from his brain to his mouth. He tried again.

“Saaaaaafffe,” he said.

Other zombies were finishing their meal now and starting to gather to head back. Yoongi pulled the human to his feet and groaned at him, trying to somehow communicate that he should play along.

“Prrrrrrgh… P-Prrrrgh.” Pretend! Yoongi shouted in his brain but it didn’t want to work this time. Instead he held out his arms and shuffled in an exaggerated way. 

The human was still wide eyed with shock but he nodded once and started to shamble alongside Yoongi. 

It wasn’t long before the rest were done and they started off. N came over to shuffle alongside Yoongi and the human. He looked at the human quizzically but shrugged vaguely and let it go. Some were lost and some were added every hunt. A new face wasn’t that big of a deal.

Yoongi wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do with his new pet human when he got back to the mall. He just knew he had to keep him safe.

[eat0crow]

Jasonette first meeting please?

I’ve written a couple Jasonette first meetings already but I was scrolling through a prompt list and -You just snuck into my apartment and wait is that blood-stuck out to me. Hope you enjoy!

This fic was beta-read by the lovely @the17thtearoom

Is That Blood

Kwami knows that Marinette is a scatter-brained mess no matter what time of day it is. She would like to deny it, but really, no one would believe her. She blames Tikki, even if she was a disaster before the little fortune god came into her life. Nino has the proof, and has justly been sworn to silence.

There is never a need to relive the fourth grade. Never.

There’s a general swirl of chaos that follows Marinette wherever she goes: Paris, London, New York, now Gotham. It’s one of the reasons, maybe even the reason that despite desperately needing someone around to help out with the rent—Gotham charged way too much for a studio apartment, how the hell is it more expensive than Manhattan—she’s never looked for a roommate. Not after spending a month bunking with Alya, and driving the girl insane.

Alya hadn’t been the one to ask her to leave, she’d claimed Marinette was fine. Marinette had seen the way her eye twitched after the fourth time, in a week's span, she had come home tracking some dark, vaguely sticky substance behind her.

For the sake of their friendship, Marinette had moved out a little over a week later.

With this in mind, Marinette thinks she’s being overwhelmingly okay with the situation when her first question, upon stepping foot back into her apartment, happens to be, “Is that blood?”

Not, “how did you get in here”, or “who are you?” Is that blood? When did her life get this weird? Oh yeah, when she—a newly turned fourteen-year-old girl—was entrusted with guardianship over some of the most powerful deities in creation. That’s when.

It’s only after watching the man for an uncomfortable amount of time that Marinette notices the sickly crackling of unnatural magic clinging to the air around him. There’s a pool of dark magic sitting in her living room. It’s coating him, clinging to his very being and dripping, toxic, onto the pale beige carpeting.

God the carpeting, blood stains are a bitch to get out. At least he had the sense to push back the coffee table, and not sit on the couch that Marinette’s fairly sure, has been in this apartment since before she was born.

The stranger pauses his stitching mid-action, needle freezing halfway through the gash on his leg. Marinette is concerned.

“No, it’s cranberry juice,” he says sarcastically, even as he presses a towel, her pink bunny towel no less, against his leg. It’s clearly an attempt to hide the murder scene she just walked in on, but honestly, the towel is turning a disgusting shade of rusty brown.

Marinette takes one fortifying look around her living room, paying particular attention to the sticky wet spot her home invader is sitting in. He had better not have touched her one true love. If the coffee maker is broken she will break him.

“You should finish stitching that up before you bleed to death all over my carpet.”

“I’m not going to bleed out in the middle of your living room.”

Marinette grabs her emergency first aid kit, the one she keeps tucked safely in the umbrella stand. It’s a beast, and maybe Marinette had been a little obsessive when it came to putting it together, but she had spent a good portion of her life fighting. She liked to be prepared, even if being prepared meant carrying around a walking pharmacy.

Delicately, Marinette did her best to avoid mashing the blood further into the carpet. “I have a tourniquet in here just in case, but it doesn’t look like we need it. You did remember to disinfect the cut before you started stitching, right?”

She’s close enough now, knelt next to the man, to really make out his features. The pressure she forces down on the wound makes him wince, and Marinette blinks. Green eyes, there’s an aura to them that reminds Marinette distinctly of Tikki’s magic, a faint light just barely visible—Lazarus light. Well, that explained the corruption clinging to the air.

“I didn’t think you would be too thrilled with me poking around your bathroom,” he hisses out, sharp and very clearly in pain.

Marinette would usually let a lie like that go, but her patience is getting dangerously thin. “You could have spent another minute grabbing the peroxide from the medicine cabinet. It’s not like I can’t see your bloody footprints marking your trail. You grabbed my favorite towel, but not the one thing that prevents a staph infection. Who taught you first aid? Honestly! ”

A dark brow raises upward, clear interest taking over the strangers face. “You’re remarkably calm for someone who just found a random stranger dripping blood all over their apartment.”

“I’m more than a little pissed over that. You owe me a carpet cleaning.” Marinette grabs the travel-sized bottle of peroxide out of her kit, along with her sterilized needle, lighter, actual stitching thread—why the fuck is he using dental floss? Why?—and a roll of gauze. She’ll probably need more later, but for now, this is good. “You’re giving yourself way too much credit. This isn’t even close to the strangest thing I’ve seen this week. Now, this is going to sting like a bitch, but you broke into my apartment so, you deserve it.”

He lets out a long string of curses, biting down hard on his hand as Marinette pours the disinfectant over the wound. It’s a good three inches long and at least a centimeter deep. He needs a hospital but, seeing as his first choice was breaking and entering, Marinette’s probably as close to a professional as he’ll see.

“Fucking shit,” he grounds out around clenched teeth. Marinette has to take out the stitches he’s already done. They’re uneven and sloppy, probably because he’d been using the needle from her sewing kit. She slips her surgical scissors, the fresh pair she just held under her lighter, against the floss. His face loses all color as she carefully works the four rows he made out. “I know you’re pissed, but I don’t deserve this.”

Marinette casts him her most deadpan expression as she lights the curved stitching needle on fire. “Who's the dumbass who didn’t disinfect his—what? Stab wound? It looks like a stab wound, do you have any idea where that knife could have been? You’re lucky I’m nice enough not to let you get a blood infection.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Nice enough. You’re a regular ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who broke in.” Marinette takes satisfaction in stabbing her needle into the skin and watching as his smirk turns into a grimace. “How did you get in here anyway? The front door was still locked.”

“I kicked in the back door,” he admits, with just the faintest hint of shame. “It was hanging on by a bolt and a decades worth of rust.”

“You’re lucky you’re already bleeding.”

“I was in a hurry, okay,” he says defensively. “My friend lives in the same apartment number one complex over. I apparently was off a bit with my directions. I promise, I don't usually break into random people’s homes.”

“Guess I’m just special then.” Marinette has to hide her smile by occupying herself with cleaning up. She’s angry at him, damn it!

“I’ll fix the door for you if you want? And I’ll pay for one of those rug doctors Walmart rents.” He carefully stretches out his leg. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet. A mix between pain and blood loss no doubt. Wordlessly she offers up a bottle of Tylenol.

She regrets handing it to him a nanosecond later when he takes a double dose and then, throws back a third for good measure.

“Oh, you’re going to be paying my cleaning bill all right, but the door can wait,” Marinette says, getting up, and heading over to her kitchen. There is no problem in the world food doesn’t make better. “You look like you could really use some breakfast, and I’ve had nowhere near my daily dose of caffeine. We can figure everything out after we’ve eaten.”

The man follows her over, leaning heavily against the wall to support his weight. It’s a sorry sight. He makes an aborted move to help her before deciding that nope, he really can’t stand for all that long. “Did I tell you how weird you are yet? I feel like I should have.”

“Would you rather I call the cops and kick you out?” Marinette asks, pushing the coffee maker to the very edge of the counter. He can reach it if he tries. Marinette fully plans to make him. With a bit more force than necessary, she slams down her jar of coffee mix. “Clearly you’re lucid enough to make some coffee while I fry up some eggs.”

There’s a spark of amusement in the stranger's eyes. His smirk is back, and he watches Marinette with something like glee. “Sure thing, firefly.”

“It’s Marinette,” she corrects, not bothering to turn away from the stove. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but...you did break into my house.”

“That’s fair,” the stranger agrees. Reaching for her phone instead of the stack of coffee filters. The bastard, doesn’t he realize how thin her sanity is stretching? “Jason Todd. You mind if I use your phone for a minute. Roy can stop by Home Depot, and get you a new door. So we won’t be reinstalling something that was already on its last legs.”

Marinette feels a headache coming on. “I’ll make enough for three then. Just have him pick up some kind of cleaner so the stain doesn’t set in.”

[vannahfanfics]

Correspondence

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Temari

Hello, everyone! ^u^ This is my piece for Day 1 of ShikaTema Week for the prompt “Letters”! I’m not sure I can accomplish the entire week, but I had to at least attempt some stories for this beautiful couple! Enjoy~

Temari’s blue-green eyes trawled over the neatly inked rows of words stretching across the parchment she held above her face as she lay sprawled diagonally across her bed. The oceanic orbs absorbed every detail of the lettering, from the blobs of black ink indicative of careful consideration to the whooshing lines of excited haste. Her pink lips curled upwards into a giddy smile as she read the words contained within the letter, and when she finished, she hugged the piece of parchment to her chest. The paper crinkled under the force of her embrace; the noise was barely audible over her contented sigh. She pulled the bottom half of the letter to once more peek at the letter’s signature.

Shikamaru.

Just reading his name made a delighted grin spring to her features. Temari would never openly express her besottedness of the boy, but within the solitude of her bower, she afforded herself some small measure of freedom. She rolled onto her side, clutching the letter and smiling gleefully. The moonlight streamed in through the slightly open window with particles of sand that glowed like moondust. The hour was late; she had no business writing a reply. Nevertheless, she sprang from her bedsheets to hurry to her desk, scrambling for pen and parchment and words to say.

Ever since the incident in the Land of Shadow and Naruto’s wedding, she and Shikamaru had been communicating regularly. Maintaining a long-distance relationship was difficult, especially with the both of them so involved with the political realms of the respective villages. Still, they were determined to make it work. Correspondence was instrumental in sustaining their feelings for one another. Neither of them was particularly eloquent nor amorous, so typically, the contents of the letters were quite dull. However, Temari knew Shikamaru exceptionally well. She could hear the hints of affection bled into the inked pages, see his shy smirk before her waking eyes. Their wavelengths had aligned into a single pulsing wave, and thus, they knew intricacies about one another no one else ever could.

After about ten minutes of eagerly transcribing the recent events of her life onto the page, Temari paused to give her aching wrist a break. She rolled it casually to loosen the stiffening ligaments and glanced out of the window. Her white curtains ruffled in the night breeze like dancing skirts, silken and ethereal. The stars glimmered in the desert sky, joined only by faint wisps of gray clouds and a grinning crescent moon. She wondered if Shikamaru was awake at this hour and gazing upon the same night sky. Probably not, she thought in dry amusement, he’s either asleep, or has his nose in a shogi board. The image of him hunched over the game always made her chuckle. His brows furrowed in concentration while holding his chin thoughtfully… one might be fooled that he applied such enthusiasm to all his efforts.

He has grown, though, she admitted as she leaned back in her desk chair. Shikamaru did exert himself almost unnecessarily so in the Leaf Village’s political affairs. When Temari inquired about his zeal, he always groaned and insisted it was because Naruto wouldn’t know a mission report from toilet paper. Temari knew him, though; she knew that in truth, Shikamaru was investing in knowing all he could because Naruto was his best friend. His devotion to the plucky, blond-haired ninja was no less than admirable.

Temari laid her head on her left arm and resumed scratching letters onto the paper. Her eyes became lidded with serenity, and her lips reflected the joy blooming in her heart as she reported all the mundanity of the last week.

“I’ve always wondered how you looked when you were writing me back.”

Temari jerked out of her chair with a startled gasp, fumbling for the kunai pouch draped across the back of the furniture. Her uncoordinated movements slung the bag right off, sending kunai and shuriken scattering across the stone floor. Luckily, she didn’t really need them. Once she realized who was perching in her windowsill like some smug Casanova, she puffed out her cheeks and pouted.

“Shikamaru Nara! You scared me half to death!”

“You? Scared?” the boy replied arrogantly with raised eyebrows. Cheeks burning, she crossed her arms and looked away with a huff. Of all the…!

“What are you even doing here? At this time of night, on top of that?!” He shrugged nonchalantly and picked up the pen she had been using to click it repeatedly. The monotonous clacking grated her already annoyed mental state, and so she stalked over to snatch it from him. “Seriously! Don’t tell me you just snuck out of the Leaf Village for a leisurely jaunt?”

“And what if I did?”

Temari’s face turned beet-red, and she whirled on her heel to present her back to him while she gathered her composure. Grunting, she kicked one of the kunai across the room. Its blade scraped over the uneven stone floor before crashing into the wall with a metallic ring. She peeked out of her peripheral vision when she realized Shikamaru was cackling.

“What? What’s so funny?!”

“I’m just joking. I’m on a mission here. You should know that; didn’t Gaara inform you?” No! No, he didn’t! Temari fumed silently. As baby-faced and innocent as her little brother appeared, Kankuro could always tempt him into some deviousness. The puppet-master had likely concocted this low scheme to toy with Temari’s emotions and was perched somewhere with some binoculars enjoying the spectacle. Huffing, she plopped down on the end of her bed and regarded Shikamaru critically.

“Regardless, what on earth prompted you to drop in unannounced?” He shrugged again and slid out of the window, carefully avoiding the desk situated underneath to drop down into the room. Frowning, he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked at her snootily, chin upturned.

“I wanted to see you, dummy.” A hard lump formed in the base of Temari’s throat; she could not force it down, no matter how many times she swallowed. Her palms bloomed with sudden sweat, which she discharged by running her hands compulsively over her comforter. A fire burned within the roundness of her cheeks, blazing and hot. When she peeked up at him through her lashes, he was smiling kindly at her. “It’s just been a while.”

“Yes, it has.” She edged over on the bed and patted the space beside her. He crossed the room in a few strides and eased down beside her, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on his hands. “What’s the mission?”

“Oh, you know, the usual bullshit. Bandits and rogues and disgruntled merchant caravans,” he smirked as he looked at her amusedly. His sarcastic dispassion never ceased to make her laugh, because it was just so ridiculous how he could so effortlessly invalidate grave issues. His smirk widened as she giggled, covering her lips daintily with her hand. He suddenly caught her hand, gauging her reaction with glimmering black eyes as he brought it to his mouth to kiss along her fingertips. He was not romantic with his words, but every so often, he could beguile her with tender gestures. “I missed you, Temari,” he breathed against the pads of her fingers. His eyes smoldered beneath his dark lashes, stoking the fire within her own body.

“I missed you, too.” He tilted his head, lowering her hand to entwine their fingers together. Temari fluttered her eyelashes demurely and sucked in a breath, already anticipating his coming. His free hand threaded into her fluffy sand-colored hair, pausing to stroke along her cheekbone. He shifted on the bed, closer to her, and her eyes closed of their own accord. She exhaled exultantly when she finally felt his lips enveloping her own, and she hummed in satisfaction. She could feel him smirking against her mouth, the smug bastard, but then he pushed into her to deepen the kiss. His hand roamed her body- the length of her arm, the small of her back, the curve of her waist. She wrapped her arm around his neck to tangle her fingers in his coarse black hair, while their other two hands remained entwined between them.

Correspondence was instrumental in maintaining a long-distance relationship, but a surprise visit every once in a while certainly didn’t hurt…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @shikatemaweek​, @deliathedork​, @searchfortheonepiece​

[baekberrie]

🌹la vie en rose - bbh🌹

🌹Genre: Romance, angst, fluff, marriage! au

🌹Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Baekhyun had always waited for you, and you for him. Through thick and thin you had respected each other all the way to the moment he had slid the cold, golden ring on your finger while gazing into your eyes with the words I love you reflecting within them. You were so thankful for the way you had been able to live your relationship before marriage, it had made every first time so special that you couldn't imagine having it any other way.

Although it had been some time ago by now, you could freshly remember the shivering feeling you had that night. When the only source of light had been the moonlight peeking through the thin white curtains. When everything had started with short smiling kisses that had with slow seconds become so much deeper.  Recalling the moment, you remembered the warmth of his lips against yours and the faded scent of his cologne clouding your senses, the way his warm fingertips had traced every outline of your body, leaving hot burning spots on your skin, reaching the zip on the back of your dress.

His eyes had immediately opened that moment, hesitantly gazing into yours, silently asking you if that was okay. If you wanted it as much as he did, and for that had only a gentle caress on his face been enough of an answer.

The zip had with a low sound been brought down, Baekhyun's hands had been resting on your shoulders before sliding down the thin arms of the dress while your very own shakily undid the buttons of his shirt. It was like unwrapping the most awaited gift of your life, except that it was worth so much more. The look he had given you still made the hairs on your arms stand up. The way his eyes had taken in every inch of your bare body like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

You could still clearly remember his hands tightening on yours while pinned against the mattress, the sound of his raw and breathless voice whispering I love you, countless times into your ear.

That moment, that one night was one of your most precious treasures. That, and the following minutes, hours, days spent with him, they were everything you could have ever asked for.

So why were there tears running down your face? You had no reason to cry, no reason to feel this wistful and yet, the tears had been welling up at the waterline of your eyes before you had even noticed it. The air in the room was cold and the lights were turned off, you hadn't bothered to switch it on when you had dragged your body towards the bed. The clock ticked nine in the evening, it being the only sound to melt away with your fast breathing. You thought about how  Baekhyun was on his way home by now, you could only tell yourself to hurry and dry the tears from your now sticky cheeks, you were aware of how much it broke him to see you like this for the third evening in a row, with tears staining your pale face once again.

Because he didn't know what was going on, what he could do to make the sorrow in you fade away. He didn't know the reason why you were crying yourself to sleep next to him for so many consecutive nights. It was his first time feeling so powerless and weak in front of such a situation where he was supposed to know what to do, where he was supposed to be the one who comforted you, but he felt so inexplicably distant from you. It hurt him to death when the one he loved so dearly didn't tell him what was bothering her.

His whole days at work didn't even feel like days because the only thing that lingered in his mind was the silent sound of your broken voice sobbing into the pillow. Because at any moment you could be crying and falling apart and he wouldn't be there to keep you together.

Baekhyun was barely surpassing the speeding limit when he drove home from work, with his heart beating shakily against his ribs. An anxiously heavy presence pressuring down on his chest drove him to accelerate further. He needed to be there now, you could be breaking down and this time he didn't want you to dry your own tears. He wanted to be the one to plant his palms on your cheeks and hold them until you could smile at him again.

Until you could tell him that everything was really okay.

The car door closed with a slam as Baekhyun messily ran with his bags dangling on the tips of his fingers, the bunt of home keys hitting against each other in the left hand as he with his fingers tried to pick out the right key, he knew that you always locked the door when you'd be home alone.

Baekhyun didn't even take his shoes off when he entered the house, you were all that mattered. The only thing he wanted to do was run to his wife and make sure that she was the happiest woman on this earth. The work bags had landed on the floor with a loud thud as he dropped them carelessly at the entrance as well as he shook off the suit jacket, letting it lay on the ground next to the other things.

You almost jumped off the bed when the door suddenly opened, a breathy and worried-looking Baekhyun stood there with his crescent eyes trying to find yours. As a reflex, your hands flew to your cheeks, helplessly rubbing them against the spot where tears had been slipping. But the movements were so obvious that it was useless to try to hide it. Your husband didn't waste a second to approach you, you felt how the mattress sunk under his weight as he sat down next to you. His scent was a faded mix between his cologne and sweat which showed you that he had stressed his way over here. Baekhyun didn't hesitate to place his oh so gentle - beautiful- hands on your stained cheeks. They were warm, so warm that they almost burned on your skin, but it was a warmth that you had forgotten how much it comforted you, the way it so invitingly spread into the rest of your body. How you had missed it.

Baekhyun's thumbs caressed your face carefully, his touch, feather-like and apprehensive, fearing that you'd fall apart at any moment if he'd applied any pressure and before you knew it, his hands had disappeared from your face only to appear on your back, your face suddenly getting pushed against his broad chest. His face hid in the crook of your neck while his hand threaded through your hair, brushing through it soothingly, a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you let yourself relax in his hold.

"I am so sorry," Baekhyun's words dripped with regret and sadness, though you had no idea what he was apologizing for, you frowned against his shirt. "I am so sorry for never being there when you need me," and then it suddenly downed to you that perhaps you hadn't been so great at hiding these emotions, those endless tears that you had been letting fall for a reason that was unknown for yourself as well. You realized that it must have broken his very heart to know that you use to cry all alone, several times, without having been able to do anything about it.

Now he was blaming himself.

"Have I done something?" Baekhyun questioned, easing his hold around you just so that he could look at you in the eyes. Within his dark orbs swam concern, he looked lost and truly, dejected. "Did I hurt your feelings?" His voice was by now a mere broken whisper that caressed your ears ever so gently. You found yourself shaking your head frantically at him, your tears seemingly coming to a stop while your eyes searched for his.

"No- Baekhyun, of course not," You breathed out, there was guilt pooling in the pit of your stomach, he hadn't done anything but being the most loving husband ever, and here he was doubting himself because of something that he hadn't done. As soon as your words sank in, relief made its way on his features- though, it was soon replaced by worry all over again, his palm reaching to cup your cheek.

"Then why...?" Confused, he was confused, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't just find his way into your mind, he couldn't figure out the reason for your sadness, but really, he was to be disappointed because you could barely explain it to yourself. All you did was shake your head, teeth drilling into your lower lip, "I...Don't know," you murmured under your breath, moving your gaze away from his. The answer made him frown with confusion as he let his left hand reach up to cup your other cheek. Baekhyun's eyes searched yours for a short second before a sigh left his lips.

"Alright," his warm lips came to kiss your cheek, "We'll figure it out, but certainly not now when you're in this state."  Somehow, these few words threw away all of the weight that had been pressing down on your chest, a weight that you hadn't even noticed was making it harder for you to breathe. Baekhyun wasn't angry, he wasn't feeling anything of the sort, he just loved you and you noted to yourself to trust him more next time, for keeping it bottled up inside of yourself was indeed only breaking you.

"I'm so sorry for always worrying you, for not opening up before," Lips trembling, you felt the strong urge to utter these apologies while breaking the embrace to look at him. But Baekhyun only hushed you, taking your hand in his cold one and brought it to his face, placing his soft, silk-like lips on your fingertips, sending warm radiations down your body, something bloomed in your chest- but not only, there were butterflies tickling the walls of your belly, or maybe was it plants- flowers growing and blooming in the life-giving love that you had for this man.

"Let's not think about that," He whispered, voice mellow and honey dripping from each letter. A squeal emerged from your throat as he gently pushed you into a lying position on the bed, not wasting a single second to climb on it himself, placing himself between your legs that you with a face splitting smile wrapped around his waist. You didn't get the chance to save some air as he eagerly placed his lips on yours, wanting you to forget about any pain, about any sorrow that had been clouding your thoughts, so you could only focus on him, on his warmth and his feelings for you. And gladly so, you complied. Wrapping your arms around his neck, his sighs of satisfaction pushing into your mouth, you swallowed them as he shifted and moved against you with lips dancing in sync to his movements. His hair was soft between your fingers and the skin on his neck burned greatly as you caressed his body, but you were sure that so did yours when he allowed himself to pop the buttons of your shirt open, kissing you on places that brought you back to the very first time you'd done it.

At the thought, a flame, it burst within you together with the rushing memory of his hand pushing the golden ring that tied your red strings of life together, up to your fourth finger. You placed your lips to his ear as he dived his body into yours and whispered the only words you would never doubt.

"I love you."

🌹🌹🌹

All you knew was that you were very grossed out by the sounds you were making when more substance left your throat as you hunched over the toilet seat, dizziness clouded your thoughts and a strong wish to speed forward this moment fired up in your chest. The urge to throw yourself at the sink and rinse the disgusting taste of reflux in your mouth was so overpowering but yet another frustration when your throat lumped with more. In the distance of your thoughts, you could make out the faint noise of approaching footsteps.

"Baby?" Baekhyun called from the other side of the door, worry and hesitation dripped from his voice as he knocked falteringly before letting himself in. You couldn't witness the distress twisting his features upon seeing you in such a state again; your body slightly shaking while you did your best to strengthen the weak hold on the toilet seat. Beads of cold sweat layered on the surface of your now pale and lifeless skin and coughs kept leaving your lips from time to time. Baekhyun wasted no time and crouched next to you, one hand made its way to your nape and gathered your slightly damp hair in a light hold, keeping it from falling on your face, while the other rubbed soothing, slow, circles on your back with the pad of his thumb. As if magic, it calmed the rate of your erratic heartbeat and after a few seconds you felt as if you could breathe again.

For the tenth time in a row, you rinsed your mouth, hoping that the bitter aftertaste would leave your tastebuds once and for all. Your husband was eyeing you intently from where he was leaning against the wall. His forehead shiny with sweat and his foot tapping absentmindedly on the floor, showing how distressed he was about the situation- without actually realizing it himself. Arms tightly crossed on his chest, the tips of his fingers were fading into a white shade of pressure while his teeth sunk down into his lip, drilling it.

"This is the third time this week, baby, can we please go see a doctor?" He urged while making his way to you, gently grabbing your hand and running his fingertips lovingly down your palm, the tickling feeling left butterflies dancing and fluttering their wings against the wall of your belly and you loved it despite having had the worst morning sickness of all times. Slowly but surely, Baekhyun threaded his soft, velvet-like fingers through your shaky ones who instantly relaxed when bathing in the warmth of his hold, taking you to your shared bedroom where he ushered you under the covers.

"I'm fine, really-"

"You are seeing a doctor and that's a final, princess, tomorrow, we'll go together." Baekhyun left no space for protests as he ended the argument. Although the stern and hard expression on his features- you knew how to see through that, how to swim your way into his ocean eyes and find the pure worry he had for your well being.

"But you have work tomorrow," You remembered in a soft murmur after a while of silence. Lifting a hand from under the covers, you brought it to his cheek where your vulnerable fingertips danced shakily down the traces of his features, feeling the warm and slightly damp texture of his skin, once you caressed his lips- he couldn't help but capture your fingertips in the hold of his soft, soft satin-like lips, kissing them gently yet with so much sentiment that it set your heart on fire.

"I'll call in sick," He whispered against your palm as he affectionately snuggled into it, pressing yet another peck to your hand but you were quick to shake your head.

"You don't have to do that. I'll be fine on my own, I promise." You insisted, knowing that a worried Baekhyun was the hardest shell to crack. But the softening in his eyes made it apparent for you that he was considering his options.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? Can I at least drive you there?" This time there was a little pout sporting on his lips as he leaned further close to your face from where he was sitting; on the floor under your side of the bed. His warm breath was fanning your face and the scent of strawberries and lemon that emanated from him brought a wave of calmness and comfort into your once stiff body. You nodded reassuringly, curving your lips into a smile that could put his heart to ease, and you knew, that you had succeeded when a mixture between a sigh and a chuckle left his now slightly smiling lips.

"I know that you are a strong woman- and that you can do so many things, I just so worried, I care for you." Baekhyun's orbs searched for yours, slightly shaky as they took in your every feature before dropping a kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttered delightfully close as he trailed further. Tracing his nose down your features to press another one to the tip of your nose- and then- after stealing an inamored glance to your slightly parted mouth, he closed the distance to give you what every cell of your body was anticipating,  a kiss on the lips. A kiss that felt like rose petals caressing your skin. One that was enveloped in the fragrance of blooming spring. One that brought the scent of love with itself. His lips that tasted like sugar, like honey, like strawberries- like anything that would make sweet on your tongue, his lips were.

🌹🌹🌹

It had been only a few hours ago that your husband had so persistently driven you to the hospital for a health check-up, three-day consecutive morning sickness had caused him great worry- and it would've have been a lie if you said that you didn't have the slightest idea of what it might have been. There were so many things that could've been going on with your body- and for that reason you'd been in denial, not wanting to jump to wild assumptions. But this time, the slight lateness of your menstrual circle hadn't been a wild assumption, the morning sicknesses hadn't been mere refluxes of something bad that you'd possibly eaten. It had been barely noticeable, but the two stripes on the test that was given to you at the hospital had been a confirmation.

The moment that your gaze had fallen on the object, the object that with such a simple thing as a stripe or two, would be able to determine your near future, seeing its results had sent your heart immediately all the way to your throat within one single jump. A lump dried your throat as a wave of fear crashed onto you, with slight trembling you wondered whether you were truly ready to become a mother- would you be a good mother? What if you would be no good? What if- what if Baekhyun didn't want this although you were married? The air suddenly knocked out of your lungs and the whole world was spinning crazily, the scent of disinfectant burning the walls of your nose as you inhaled sharply. You could recall the bass-like heartbeat of yours echoing ever so loudly in your own ears and the slightly delayed realization started to make its way through your rashing thoughts, the pregnancy test- the words of the doctor- slowly but surely they sucked into your skin and the fear was overweighted by a sudden happiness, a feeling that overwhelmed you. With your heart swelling in your chest you wondered if this was just a wild dream, perhaps, a thrilling, beautiful reality.

The realization that there was something wonderful within you. A little flower- no, not yet, it was still a little, fragile bud residing in your womb that needed to be protected, ready to grow, to bloom dazzlingly into the most wholesome creature to ever breathe on this planet, a little baby. Would it resemble Baekhyun more? Or perhaps inherit your features? Maybe both, but either way, you could only be sure that it would be as beautiful as it could possibly be because it was the fruit of your love for one another.

A sigh escaped your lips as you took in your own reflection in the body-length mirror on your closet. As you recall the past events, you couldn't help but get caught in the same incredibly strong emotions that would steal your breath and speed up the heartbeat, it was still hard to wrap your head around it. A soft hand ran down your yet flat belly, wondering how it would look when grown, imagines of your baby reacting to your voice with its kicks as you'd whisper sweet words filled your head- the thoughts fluttered your heart and you couldn't help but chuckle.

When the noise of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house, you felt your body freeze, contemplating telling him right now at this moment or to wait until-

"Baby?" Baekhyun's tired yet soothing vibrato reached your ears and before you even knew it, you had already sprinted to the entrance, with your thoughts clouded by the violent crashing of your heart against your ribs, but at the same time it felt as if the organ in your chest was swelling- a strong urge to tell him right away buzzed through your body like electricity, starting from your cold fingertips. Small yet fast breaths were leaving your lips as you reached your husband who was currently loosening his tie with his free hand, every sign of tiredness disappeared upon seeing you, your mere presence lightened up his whole being and it was displayed through the heart-piercing smile he mustered to only you. The smile where his beautiful cheeks would reach up to his eyes, forming them into crescent diamonds. As if your lips had moved on your own, the words rolled off your tongue, lingering in the thick air.

"Baekhyun, we're expecting a...A baby." You muttered, surprised by how steadily you were holding his now shocked gaze although the quivering in your whole body. His mouth fell open but absolutely nothing came out, hir orbs widened and you could tell by his stiffness in his body that he had just lost his breath.

"Could you please repeat yourself?" Baekhyun begged, almost desperately as a hand reached to tightly clutch his chest, he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"I'm pregnant," You exhaled, "I-"  You wanted to continue but the two words had been enough to wake up the spark within his chest, for him to come to his senses and your sentence was interrupted by the noise of his work bag being carelessly thrown on the floor, the heels of his elegant shoes tapped loudly against the wooden floor and he didn't even bother to take off his jacket when he ran to you. Your forehead colliding with his broad chest before you'd get the chance to save some air, his arms were already engulfing you in the warmest, tightest embrace he'd ever given you. His chin tightly tucked on your shoulder as he inhaled and exhaled close to your ear, gaining his senses.

"Thank you, thank you so much." Baekhyun murmured emotionally, lips brushing on the rim of your ear and proceeded to hide his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"I- I'm-" Baekhyun stuttered weakly, his trembling orbs searched for yours as they pooled with emotions so raw, so overwhelmingly strong that he couldn't utter the words he wanted to, hence, he couldn't even think straight, his head was a mess but he knew one thing for sure; "I'm so happy- and- I, I love you." Butterflies spread their wings in your womb, Baekhyun's words so sincere, so real and you barely noticed the slight shaking to his body. A soft shade of red was rimming on the sensitive skin around his eyes, the water glazing his perfect, perfect orbs and crystalizing into his long lashes that kissed subtly the apples of his cheeks. He sent you yet another beautiful eye smile that made his accumulating tears spill down his cheeks. But you were quick to catch them with your palms, pressing them ever so gently to his warm face, letting the pads of your thumbs simultaneously remove the salted stains on his features.

Gently, he removed your hand from its current position, bringing it to his lips so that he could brush a tender kiss over your knuckles, tickling ever so sweetly on your skin, and he whispered;

"I'll protect the two of you,"

🌹🌹🌹

A featherlight sensation,  something slightly damp and tickling dabbing onto your cheek repeatedly made you stir from your deep slumber. Streaks of the sun's rays peeked mildly through the vanilla white curtains and onto your skin, it's reflection warmed up on your frame, though it wasn't nearly as warm as the legs that your own were entangled with. Not the least as warm as the chest brushing against the side of your arm. Only then did you realize that the damp feeling on your cheek had been Baekhyun's kissing lips all along, them pecking your skin sweetly and gently until you would wake up. You could feel him smiling against you as your eyes fluttered open. An arm tightened around your waist and Baekhyun's luminous puppy eyes came into your view. They were slightly swollen with sleep and the somewhat hotter temperature of the bedroom sent a delicate pink hue caressing his cheeks. You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the absolutely beautiful sight, making you wonder in your groggy state if you were still dreaming, for when he murmured a sweet good morning, the vibrato of his voice resembled such a sound as of angels singing.

With your heart falling in love all over again you could only break into a lazy smile, and as you did, he pressed his lips to yours for a short yet loving kiss, only to a second later uncover you from the duvet. Cold shivers made the hair on your arms raise as you let out a disapproving noise, upset that e had taken you away from the comfortable warmth under the covers. Baekhyun had yet other plans when he brought his hand to your stomach- his fingers grasping the hem of your pajama and lifting it up. You laid still in your position and observed what was about to happen, only to have your heart swelling in amour, colorful hues seeping into your view as Baekhyun dropped his head lower, placing a tender kiss on your belly, "Good morning to you too," He murmured affectionately against your skin and eyes dancing all over your now slightly swollen belly as if he was trying to see through it and look at his baby. Raking a hand through his long and curly locks, you motioned him to lean away so that you could get up from the bed. And he did. Once free, you made your way to the full body-length mirror, standing profile wise and lifted your shirt just like Baekhyun had done just a minute ago, admiring the bump that was still tiny, but you noticed that it was growing a little every day. A soft smile made its way on your lips when you imagined the feeling of small kicks against your hands once your belly had grown bigger.

It didn't take long before Baekhyun joined you in the reflection, standing behind you with his arms snaking around your waist until his fingertips grazed the lower part of your baby-bump, resting there gently and caressing it tenderly. The scent of detergent lingering on his clothes reached your nose and you found yourself inhaling it as if it were the sweetest addiction. While he ran his nose down the side of your neck he murmured; "You look beautiful, baby love, both of you." His warm lips massaged your ear before trailing further down, kissing your neck until he reached your collarbones, nuzzling his face there and tightening his arms around you affectionately. "I can't wait to hold our baby," Baekhyun sighed dreamily, his breath dampening on your skin as he did so. "I am the luckiest man in the world," His words felt like summer as they impregnated in your head, making you feel in love, younger and energetic, but most of all, warm.

"And so am I," You cooed back while turning in his embrace so that you could wrap your arms around his neck and lifting yourself on your tiptoes, "To have you,"

"You will always love me, right? " You didn't know where the question had come from, but a certain urge and need of reassurance had surged within you. Your heartbeat fastened in your chest when Baekhyun's gaze didn't waver from yours the least. His orbs, they sparkled with so many emotions, they were so wonderful, you were sure God had the time of his life when he sprinkled stars into Baekhyun's eyes.

"I will always adore you, and never will I get tired of you, I'll grow old with you and my love for you will with me," He spoke and in his soothing murmurs was nothing but sincerity. Never did he look away from you, eventually reaching out with one hand to fit his soft palm against your face. A thumb stroking the apple of your cheek mildly,

"My beautiful, beautiful darling."

🌹🌹🌹

In the house was only silence as you applied the last layer of lipstick onto your lips. It had been such a long time since you'd last gone out to have fun with your friends and you couldn't wait to reunite with them again.

At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

And while part of it was true- the other part of the truth was that you couldn't wait to step out of your house, to breathe, to get away for even a few hours. Because it was a dark period where neither you or Baekhyun could really get along, fights erupting from the smallest and pettiest reasons, them piling one upon each other until they turned into venom weapons to use against each other. The silence taking place in the household was icy and discomforting, a heavy tension lingering in the air and eventually pressing down on your chest, almost suffocating.

Walking over to the mirror you let out an unsatisfied sigh, your baby bump had grown so much over the past few months and it was beautiful- but truly, this lovely dress wasn't doing it on you anymore, and no matter how you wanted to stop the negative and degrading thoughts in your head, somehow they always seemed to know how to push through. It broke your heart whenever you wouldn't be able to fight it back because none of this was the fault of your baby and never would you ever blame it, for anything.

With your car keys dangling and rustling from the tips of your fingers you made your way to the door- only to be stopped by the voice of who you had recently been fighting with more than usual, the voice of who you loved the most- yet could come to hate so easily aswell. The breath hitched inside your lungs and you squeezed your eyes shut in hope that you would be able to have control over your emotions,  tired of bursting into tears at the smallest of things. He hadn't even spoken yet but you could already sense the lump forming in your throat.

"Where are you going?" He didn't muster any emotion as he fired the question from where he was sitting; on the couch with his suit jacked placed next to him, the first three buttons of his shirt were popped open and his tie was loosened up. By the disheveled locks and droopy gaze you knew he had just returned from work.

Hesitantly biting your lip you muttered a quiet, "To dinner with Angela and Mia," Your heart broke the slightest when you saw him scan your body with venom starting to cloud in his eyes, swimming its way through his emotion and taking advantage of his bad mood that had built up during the day. A sigh left his lips and you could see him struggling with himself, barely refraining from saying something hurtful because he was tired of fighting too, he didn't want any of it either, but somehow you always managed to get back at each other's throats.

"You'll be tired, are you sure it's okay for you to go? What if they serve food that you can't eat?" Baekhyun reasoned, referring to your growing bump and you knew he was right when he said you'd be tired because of the weight it put on your body. He was right about your friends since they wouldn't know about every food that you weren't supposed to eat during pregnancy although you'd told them multiple times. You knew. And yet you didn't want to admit to him. Because these words that would've in any case showed care and worry- were they really meant? Did he really care that you would be straining yourself? Or were they to keep you from leaving this house in which the walls were impregnated with the screams of your previous fights? Which one was it really? You couldn't figure it out as he had emptied his orbs from any possible emotion, not giving you the chance to search for answers within them.

Perhaps he had really been genuine, but in your head, those words had sounded so mocking- so hostile- Do you think you'll get far with that baby bump? Huh?

"Just leave me be, Baekhyun." You said seriously but immediately regret it when his expression hardened, brows knitting together in a look of disbelief and icy anger that sent cold shivers down your spine.

"What? I'm just worried about you!" He almost shouted as he shot up from his current position on the couch, his fists curled next to his sides and you couldn't tell whether it was fire bursting from behind him or ice distancing the two of you more than ever. Maybe it was both. Maybe there was a huge wall slowly building up between you- rendering you completely incompatible. The rage that rushed through his body was so intense that you could feel it radiating as he heaved long breathes with his chest as if all the anger of your previous fights had been bottling up until its overflowing point, exploding until there was nothing left of it.

"You've been keeping me from doing anything I want! Every time I am about to go out, you!-" You start accusingly, raising your voice into a yell. Breaths left your lips in small puffs while a thin layer of cold sweat started forming on your forehead and underneath your clothes- hands suddenly clammy as you focus your gaze on his tensed features.

"You force me to stay in here as if I'm something incapable just because I'm pregnant! You force me to stay here although you know we're going to fight! You're just making sure I don't get over our fights! You're so selfish, you can't accept that I also want to live my life outside of these walls!" Small breaths had now transformed into struggling gasps- your lungs screaming for more air while your heart hammered crazily against your ribs, not helping the trembling state that your body had gone into. For a second, upon seeing you strain so badly, a glint of worry flashed through his eyes but disappeared as soon as it came, your words piercing right through his chest. His jaw clenched tightly. "Just because you have no life outside of your work!" That was the farthest he would let you go before exploding. Your heart almost jumped out of your throat at the cruel laugh that left his mouth and bounced through the walls.

"Right, because you have a bastard of a husband who doesn't care about you at all, isn't that it?" He spat in your direction, voice mirthless and words drenched in hostility.

"Because all he wants for you is to suffer, that's why he works his ass off from the early morning to the evening. What are you even doing with a guy like that?! You fool, maybe you should've thought twice before marrying him." If his gaze could've gone any darker- you would've felt suffocated by its nightfall, and yet that wasn't what had made your heart crumble to pieces this time, but his last few words. Suddenly, you didn't really care about the tears clouding your view and drenching your cheeks. You wished that the ground could just disappear from your feet and that you could withdraw with it.

"I'm not going. I hope you're satisfied." You muttered underneath your wavering breath, struggling to keep your sobs from erupting. "Stay away from me." You made sure to speak as clearly as you could through the lump, your throat dry while your voice felt like thick, suffocating syrup as you articulated. Just a few moments later you were gone into your shared bedroom, leaving him alone with his mistakes and yet another fight echoing in his mind, yet another fight to dwell over- to swallow.

Another fight to regret.

It felt like it had been hours since you'd pressed the pillow to your face and let out the infinite amount of tears spill from their borders, muffling your sobs into the softness of the clothed cushion as if it'd hurt less to do so. But they still shook your heart. Maybe it had only been a couple of minutes, a few intensely slow minutes or perhaps really hours- hours of crumbling together with your heart that had by now fallen into the deepest pit of your stomach, you felt it hollow as if it had withered likewise an avid rose. After a few whimpers you forced yourself to calm down, caressing your bump gently as you reminded yourself with deep breathes heaving your chest up and down;

It's not good for the baby, everything's okay, don't stress, It's not good for the baby.

When the door suddenly opened, you couldn't do anything but hold your breath and still completely, unconsciously pressing your back closer to the headboard of your bed. After a few seconds of hesitation, Baekhyun silently made his way inside and closed the door with a soft thud. A minute passed, maybe two, without any words, the two of you stared at each other through the distance yet still refused to let any emotion be visible through your strong gazes. By his expression, you found yourself unable to tell what he was thinking or feeling. His eyes were still hard- but not in the same way as they had been just a few moments ago outside of this room. As if he had finally gathered his courage, he started walking towards you. With careful steps and slow movements, he climbed up on the bed, surprising you when he settled himself above of you, his arms resting next to each side of your hips and his legs straddling your calves.

Eventually, he lowered his head, letting his cheek pressed to your baby bump, one hand was brought up to caress it with the pad of his thumb, a choked noise suddenly left his throat, a sob.

"Papa is so sorry for yelling at you and mommy- so sorry- Papa is the absolute worst, he doesn't deserve-" His voice was thick with cry and eventually, you felt the droplets of his sadness dampening the hem of your shirt. "I don't deserve her, at all, but will you forgive me?" Maybe he looked crazy for speaking with a baby bump- but he hurt you and in consequence degraded the little creature that he loved just as much, he couldn't forgive himself for the words he had spat at you with so little care while knowing full well how much of a sensible a heart you owned and yet- he used that fact to break it like no one had.

A gasp left his lips when he felt his face tumble back by the strong kick surging from the inside of your body, a hand flew to his cheek and his jaw dropped down low. Had he just been- His baby had just kicked for the first time.

"I guess I deserved that one," He pouted to himself, rubbing his cheek although you were sure it hadn't hurt that much. You were still hurt by his words, but your heart was weak, for him, specifically for him, and so you couldn't help the soft smile that touched your lips at the sight.  He placed his both palms upon the surface of your round belly this time and closed the distance so that he could be better heard. "Do you hear papa?" Excitement sprinkled in his voice as he exclaimed, a happy gurgle leaving his lips when your belly moved into a bounce against his warm hands again- as if the most amazing experience of his life- he hurried to meet your eyes that he expected to be just as amused. But though you were smiling back him, his own immediately died down and he removed his hands from your stomach.

Before you knew it, he was already by your side, scooping you up in his embrace, somehow managing to hug all of you even though your doubled weight. Baekhyun's lips were close to your ear while his soft lashes tickled your skin just like his fanning breath against your neck.

"I am so sorry," He breathed, " you know I didn't mean anything I said, right? You know I love you...Right?" By the time he spoke, the thicker his voice got and the tears made its way to his eyes all over again. Hands tightening around your body and arms pressing you closer to him, not finding your closeness to ever be enough. You nodded quietly, slowly bringing your hand to his ash-blonde locks.

"I'm sorry too, for thinking so badly of your intentions while you are the one who brings food to our table. When you're always worrying and watching over me."  You murmured soothingly while combing his hair with your fingers, its texture so soft although a tangled mess. Baekhyun was quick to shake is head with disagreement, taking your hand from his hair so that he could look at you. His lips trembled and his eyes were framed by a soft shade of red.

"It's all my fault, so please just accept my apology, for every fight we've had these days. Please forgive me," He didn't need to beg for you to forgive him, just the sight of his broken heart reflecting through his orbs was enough for you to throw all of this behind your shoulders.

"I just want you to know that," Baekhyun quickly interjected, " That I love you- so much- and I don't regret marrying you, and never will, and I-"

"Baekhyun," You interrupted, "It's not only your fault, because we did this mess together, and now we're fixing it together, which is all that matters." The words left your lips in soft whispers as you took his face into your hands, feeling the silky surface of his skin on the apple of his cheeks. "That we don't give up on each other for these small things, that's the only important thing right now." A smile graced your lips when you finally let him hear the important words back,

"I love you too, you know? Even if we fight."

That was all it took for Baekhyun to come with full force closer to you, crushing his lips against yours, the way they captured your lower lip with a hint of teeth never failed to send your heart crashing out of your chest, to make you lose your mind. His fingertips that traced your every outline as if a painting and his fingers the brushes dipped into the warmest of the colors. They splashed fires on your canvas when going all the way down from your jaw to give a tender caress on your stomach, eventually reaching down to grab your thigh and bringing it to his waist as he with lips parted yours. Tongues briefly meeting, letting the taste of love and sadness spread onto your palate. It was sweet, just like Baekhyun. As sweet as Baekhyun could be when he let you sit down properly and lean against the headboard so that you wouldn't have feel pain when he kissed you. Happily, he straddled your hips with a playful and wolfish grin curling his lips. Letting his index finger trace away from your lips to your collarbone and sneaking underneath your shirt- eventually hooking it around the strap of your bra.

"May I, my love?" Baekhyun asked breathlessly against your cheek, nose rubbing against your temple. A knot formed in your stomach and you felt yourself barely keeping it together.

"Only if you're really sorry," You urged.

"I am so sorry I could eat cucumbers for weeks if that's what you would want me to do," Baekhyun almost whined when he couldn't help himself from at least clasping his lips to your ear, sending electric chills thundering all over your body.

"Then you may- expect I'll make you eat cucumbers anyway." He rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips spread onto your skin and you felt yourself smiling too.

🌹🌹🌹

Cries bounced against the walls of your house,  the little creature in Baekhyun's embrace closed her fists tightly as the straining of her cries turned the delicate skin of her face into a beet red color, thin lashes kissing her cheeks and tears crystalizing lovingly at their points. It was late in the evening and his little Princess, as he called her, had woken up for the tenth time, giving you nothing but restlessness. It was tiring, yes, but upon hearing Baekhyun's  huff that didn't fail to hide his immense fondness towards his daughter;

"Yes! Yes! Daddy is coming to change you, just a second,"

You knew it was all worth it.

You didn't know how it was as possible that your heart had yet not exploded with affection when he carefully lifted the baby, placing her safely by his chest, not missing the chance to kiss her temple shortly and brought her to the bathroom where you kept the changing table. From where you were laying on the bed, you could see through the crack of the door when Baekhyun laid her down- cleaned everything thoughtfully and changed her into a clean diaper. Instead of exiting the bathroom he pressed his lips to her small body and peppered it with the most lovely of pecks, his gushing reached your room.

"Ah, how are you so adorable?! How!" He exclaimed, voice full of disbelief but yet peppered her with another set of small kisses, blowing on her belly playfully eventually erupting into the brightest smile at the noise of her high pitched gurgles. "I could eat you! My little prawn,"

"It tickles, doesn't it?" Baekhyun cooed tenderly, blowing his lips to her belly once again. He chuckled when he realized that he had probably woken the little one even more and decided that it was enough playing around at ten in the evening, though he hadn't been able to help himself, he loved spending time with her. As he dressed her back again, he brought her to his chest, gently rocking his body side to side, walking aimlessly in the little space of the bathroom, not wanting to bother your sleeping. Though you were wide awake and very much absorbed into the warm sight of your husband singing his newborn daughter to sleep. Baekhyun's voice was quiet as he hummed as melodiously as ever, and yet vibrated beautifully, touching your heart as the words that left his lips sounded like the most divine poetry and felt like soothing caresses against your ears, he sounded like love.

A few moments later, he stepped back into your shared bedroom and placed the last pecks on the baby's forehead before tucking her under the covers, not resisting to run two fingertips along her face, the texture of her skin softer than feathers underneath his touch, and at the view of her soft sneers leaving her tiny lips, a small yet adoring smile turned his eyes into sparkling half-moons.

"Good night, sugar," Baekhyun murmured into the darkness of the room before returning to his side of the bed, immediately, you scooted yourself closer to him- barely startling with the sudden movements.

"I thought you were sleeping," He let out a gasp and placed a hand against his heart, making you chuckle sweetly.

"I waited for you," You smiled although he couldn't really view it, still, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and inhaled the sweet and homely scent of detergent that emanated from his clothes. His lips curled against the crown of your head while entangling his legs with yours, instantly loving the warmth seeping into his body, arms tightening around your waist for more.

"Kitten, you didn't have to,"

"But I want you to sing me to sleep as you did with our baby." You spoke through a pout and you could feel his surprise radiating through the sudden stiffness in his muscles.

"I what?"

"Can you sing the same song that you just sang to little Joy?" A few moments of silence took place but eventually, he cleared his throat and sang.

Words that touched your heart, words that you believed were true.

"When you press me to your heart I'm in a world apart A world where roses bloom." His thumbs drew soft circles on the surface of your hipbone, voice slightly muffled by his lips being pressed to your temple.

And when you speak Angels sing from above, Everyday words seem To turn into love songs.

Give your heart and soul to me And life will always be la vie en rose.

La vie en rose, Life in the shades of pink, in the shades of love, you figured out.

That a life with Baekhyun would be exactly that, whether it'd be in an angry shade of red- or soft and delicate pink, it would always be colorful. Life with Baekhyun would always be in colors.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Surprise~ another one shot! I really need to focus on my studies after this, I've finally let this story off my chest and I feel like I've accomplished something in my life sdfg.

Sorry for mistakes!

Please do tell me what you think about it! It is my first time writing a one-shot in a marriage au honestly idk how well it turned out, only you guys can tell me soo ><. Comments are very appreciated💖🍓🌸💕

With kind regards, your dear P💖

Happy winter!🌹🌸💖

[smilingleoo]

Bts Reaction-S/O's dangerous friendships

Request: Hey, what about a reaction where s/o starts new friendships, but their boyfriends doesn't think these friends are good to their s/o, so one day they're coming back home and find their s/o smoking weed with those friends in their livingroom, then they got mad, make everyone leave, take care of their s/o but in the next day they have a serious conversation about they behavior and their friends.

Hello! Here you go, enjoy...

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RM (Kim Namjoon)

Namjoom was absolutely delighted when you told him that you had met some guys during a concert. He knew how difficult it could be having new friends, so he was over the moon. However, he started getting worried when you returned home late at night, staggering upon various things and tripping over your own feet. What is more, when you snuggled into bed, Namjoon caught how the smell of weed decorated your ruined clothes.

Something was not right.

Fortunately, Namjoon was perceptive and mature enough to grab the growing problem by the roots. Firstly, he asked you if there was something wrong but you dismissed him immidiately. He concluded that maybe you were too excited about you new friends that you were blinded about the things that could damage your health greatly, because you couldn't lie to him...right? Although Namjoon trusted you fiercely, he also had to look after you. Therefore, one day, he decided to return home early from work; stumbling upon numerous alcohol bottles and a bunch of smoke flying around the room. There you were, obviously drunk, smoking a cigarrette your 'friends' had prepared. Angry, Namjoon called them out and kicked everyone out of your house. You whimpered and made a rampage about his decision but Namjoon had had enough. After he wrapped you into bed, he began thinking about the conversation you needed to have the following day.

Jin (Kim Seokjin)

You were no longer as loving as you had been weeks ago. The things you both did when you or Jin had the time, such as cooking, vanished with the blink of an eye. He was devastated but you seemed fine with it. In fact, you were having a great time with your new friends. You were not really interested in spending time with your boyfriend anymore and Jin decided that maybe it was the time to talk things through.

Maybe the love you once felt was gone.

Nevertheless, when he opened the door of your shared apartment, a horrible scent washed over his features. His eyebrows furrowed in disgust yet he managed to get past the atrocious smell and into the living room. Surprisingly, you were there but some people were beside you; a thin glowing stick spraying a distinguishable swirling smoke-"What are you doing?"-was all Jin had managed to ask. You, clearly drunk, opened your arms and invited him to join the party but Jin knew better. He waved you off and walked to your bedroom, annoyed by your childish demanour. However, his heart ached at the thought of you harming yourself with this new group. Therefore, once you woke up the following day, he sat you down, a cup of coffe in your hand, and explained his worries thoroughly-"I won't let you destroy your gorgeous self while I can take care of you..."

Suga (Min Yoongi)

He knew everything the first night you returned home.

Your eyes were red and puffy, your mouth held a peculiar smokey scent and your dress was stained with alcohol. He had some knowledge about those things but he let you be free for a while, he trusted your judgement and maybe this was just a once-in-a-life moment. However, Yoongi was wrong. You kept coming home with that rottening smell, drunk to death and completely lost. Min Yoongi started to believe that he had to take matters into his own hands. He talked to you, a little dissappointed with your behaviour, explaining every argument he had. But his heart bolted when you told him that you were attending those places because you felt lonely. You were not even satisfied with yourself nor the people around you anymore and drugs, as superficial as it might sound, momentarily helped.

Yoongi felt guilty for a brief moment before you reassured him that he was the main reason why you still returned home. From that moment, you both promised to keep each other safe forever.

Jhope (Jung Hoseok)

He had fallen in love with you for one main reason: your beautiful smile. He adored the way your lips shyly curved upwards just for him, teeth looming beneath while the corners of your gorgeous eyes wrinckled joyfuly. He was so crazy for it that when suddenly it disappeared, his heart was torn away. The only reason that came to his mind was that you were unhappy with your environment and the fact that you were now rarely at home supported his spontaneous theory. He knew you needed to talk but, if he were to be wrong, his accusation could finish your last thread of hope.

So Hoseok decided to wait for that smile he had once cherished.

But weeks passed and your eyes no longer held that spark of contentment he missed way too much. You were destroyed, physicaly, emotionaly and mentaly. So Hoseok thought that it was time to talk about what was happening. Surprisingly, you were extremely open with your worries, claiming that your new friends weren't the best role models but they were the most company you had had in so long. Hoseok, although broken and drowned with guilt, understood and made it his personal goal to be at home whenever his job didn't demand his presence.

He would take you out of that hole.

Jimin (Park Jimin)

At first, he didn't notice. He thought that maybe you needed time alone and that you might want to enjoy some moments with your friends. He totally understood, in fact, he felt that maybe you were trying to kill time while he worked. However, your abrupt change of humor and appetite concerned him-"You barely touched your food"-he would say, wearing a warm smile. You would frown in discontent, arguing that he didn't need to control your every move.

Jimin's heart broke. But he wouldn't give up that easily.

With tiny steps, he tried to approach you. He would write encouraging messages on tiny papers just for you to read while he was away, or he would bring different types of flowers for you to take care of. Everything that took off your mind from your friends, which Jimin concluded were the problem's source, would help. After some weeks,he decided to talk things through-"What is happening, baby?"

V (Kim Taehyung)

Believe it or not, Taehyung was a really perceptive guy. He would observe your every move; from your spontaneous outbursts to your tiny gestures. Everything seemed out of place, your sweet demanours having been replaced by anger and hartred. It was weird how people could affect us but Taehyung knew that the friends you had met were not changing your life for good-"Jagi, we need to talk"

"What?"-you barked while your cellphone rested on your left hand, a groupchat sparkling on the screen-"I'm worried about you, that's all. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Your eyes stung and he could see how your face scrunched with recognition, yet your rude facade didn't stumble-"Mind your own business, Taehyung"

"I'm your boyfriend, Y/N"-he argued-"Your business were mine the moment we started dating! I'm not doing this because I want to gossip about it afterwards. I deeply care about you but if you don't voice out what the hell is happening, I won't be able to help you"

Lips quivering, you launched yourself forward embracing Taehyung's torso in between your limbs. Tired sobs escaped your mouth as Taehyung caressed your messy hair with his loving touch-"I love you, Tae"

"I love you too, baby"-he hushed-"Now, tell me what's happening"

Jungkook (Jeon Jungkook)

"Hyung, I don't know what to do!"-Jungkook pleaded worriedly. He had seen you stumble into your apartment, clearly drunk, two night in a row this week. Moreover, during daytime, you sulked inside your room most of the time wasting the few hours you had with your boyfriend, who confusedly ignored your attitude out of fear. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad? But nothing he recalled doing could have angered you like this-"I already told you, Jungkookie...you need to seriously talk to her. Otherwise, she could hurt herself"

Jeon Jungkook did not need to be scolded twice.

He stomped into the apartment, knocked on your door and waited for your response-"What do you want?"-you mumbled groggily but Jungkook could not master any kind of compassion now, he was too worried about you. Deep down he knew that if this kept on going, he could lose you and his life wouldn't be the same afterwards-"Babe, plaease, we need to talk"

"About what?"-you asked defensively still not opening the door.

"I know I can't forbid you to see your new firends 'cause that would seem like I don't trust you"-he spoke-"But, as your boyfriend, I can warn you about certain things you've been doing. Jagi, my heart breaks every time I see you so wasted...please, stop ignoring me and let's talk things through. I can help you"

Silence was the only sound that greeted Jungkook, even your soft breaths had appeared to stop. A minute passed, maybe two, and Jungkook's hopes fell from a fifth floor. However, when he was about to walk away, your door opened slightly, teary eyes peeking timidly-"I'm not myself anymore, Jungkook"

Immidiately, he turned around and entered your room closing the door behind him.

[mullersturtleneck]

The Dress

Yes hello I’m apparently not done writing about the wedding, I have a lot of soft feelings. Also, Annika and I are meeting tomorrow and I still can’t even believe it, so have a fic to celebrate. -Danielle

....................

              They’ve come on a Sunday morning, Orpheus and Eurydice, to the tiny house on a large plot of land. It’s a lazy sort of day, the drive out calling for old songs on the radio to be sung at full volume, the excitement of the news they have to share on both their lips although Orpheus is sure that their Christmas night won’t be such big news to their audience at all. His Amma’s house feels like a safe-haven; there is an immediate sense of peace when they walk up the path made of mismatched, hand-painted brick, covered in snow that’s been carefully shoveled away. Demeter greets them with unmatched joy and ushers the young couple in from the cold, taking their coats and scarves and draping them along the wooden banister of the staircase. A baby goat romps around, its hooves clicking on the wood, and Eurydice bends down to pet it with a restrained, confused sort of affection. Orpheus laughs.

              “That’s Sunny, the new baby.” It’s half an explanation Eurydice accepts, Demeter calling them from the kitchen and wrapping them both in a tight embrace. She looks over Eurydice with careful eyes and the young girl takes the hint, nodding and placing a hand over her stomach in reassurance. Everything is more than alright.

              “We have good news!” Orpheus begins before they can even settle, Demeter bringing them cups of tea. Eurydice holds hers gently, feeling the warmth radiate through her mug. Orpheus sets his immediately on the counter, thanking his grandmother before gesturing to Eurydice with pride.

              Eurydice sits at the kitchen island, grinning wildly as Demeter takes her hand, examining the flash of the little diamond against the light. Orpheus rambles animatedly, a truly lively retelling of the night just a few days before; “I didn’t know what was happening-she said she had something to tell me and I thought it might be something bad but I wasn’t sure, I was mostly just nervous. And then she told me she was pregnant, and I know that you knew it-you always know-but isn’t it amazing?”

              Eurydice chuckles, shakes her head as she watches Orpheus pace around the kitchen, gathering wildly, stopping only to lay his head on Eurydice’s shoulder. He brushes his cheek against hers, gently wraps his arms around her middle.

              “Do you like it, Amma?” Orpheus gestures to the ring, a sort of whispered softness to his voice as he looks at it, in awe himself that it’s on her finger. “I bought it from the guy you said-the one who makes his own bands. He was really nice, he said to tell you hi. He helped me pick it out. I was a little lost, but you were right-I knew when I saw it.”

              Demeter feels the warmth of her grandson’s words, the security that comes from Eurydice, who basks quietly in his embrace. The newly engaged couple, bursting with silent, intimate pride over the anticipation of the daughter she can so clearly see in their future, spend a moment suspended in this pose. She shows her approval by nodding, squeezing Eurydice’s hand.

              “It’s truly wonderful, Orpheus.”

              “And he thinks I’m going to let him ��replace it with something bigger’ when he can. Tell him he’s crazy, please. This is what I want.”

              “While we’re here,” Orpheus blushes, diverting the subject as the positive attention, while welcome, becomes far too encompassing for his humble heart. “I’m going to get the eggs for you.”

              He unwraps himself from Eurydice and moves to the kitchen counter to grab an old wicker basket, laying an old cloth in it before stumbling nervously out the door. Demeter watches him go-watches Eurydice grin, looking after his retreating figure as he makes his way toward the coop. It’s a task he’s been at since he was just barely able to walk, when Demeter begged for a chance to watch him. Every Sunday morning they’d come, Persephone and Hermes, toting a wide-eyed Orpheus. He’d spend his time trailing after her, running his hands gently along her rows of crops. He’d pluck cherry tomatoes from the vine as soon as they were ripe, popping them in his mouth and puffing his cheeks out.

              Getting the eggs was his favorite job-he’d bend to greet each chicken, the toddler singing songs to them about the names he gave them, or even while he was removing the eggs from their nests. “Thank you for your eggs, thank you for your eggs, hi-ho-dairy-o thank you for your eggs.”

              It’s a song Demeter can still see on his lips before his figure retreats past their vantage point.

              Eurydice shifts in her seat then, a soft smile still engulfing her features in a beautiful sort of peace. She runs her hand gently through her cropped hair, looks around the kitchen with curiosity at the knick knacks that line the shelves, not unlike the strangely sensical amount that Orpheus keeps in his-their apartment. There are little things-the way she seems to speak with the entirety of her heart, the way she makes Eurydice feel immediately at home-Orpheus is surely a product of her in his own way, there is no denying their similarities.

              Demeter moves to the space in front of her, catching her attention as she taps her fingers twice on the counter. It’s a gentle sort of gesture, as most of the older woman’s quirks seem to be. She tilts her head slightly at Eurydice, lets out an involuntary hum.

              “Do you have any plans for the wedding yet?”

              “Not yet,” Eurydice responds, moving her hand to her unchanged stomach. “We want to wait until after the baby is born, give ourselves some time to adjust to it all. Well, he would get married tomorrow if he had the choice. I want to wait-plan.”

              “He’s a rare kind of soul-always has been. I really hope that you know that all of this has made him the happiest he has ever been. He can barely contain himself-if it were his choice, he’d have told everyone he knows by now.”

              Eurydice laughs-yes, she knows this. She can feel it in the way he dances around her, wakes up with his arms around her stomach, caressing the invisible changes. She feels it in the way he kisses her good morning; lingering, unwilling to leave her side without trying his hardest to procrastinate. And when he tells her he’s proud of her, leans on the bar and sends her copious amounts of seltzer as she studies, takes frequent breaks to sit beside her and ask how she’s doing…Eurydice is well educated on his kindness, even when she finds it hard to believe that this open, honest love is hers.

              “Any ideas for a dress?”

              “God no,” she laughs. “The more I think about it, the more I think I should wait. I don’t want to choose something when I know what’s about to happen to my body.”

              Demeter shrugs, a dimpled lift of her lips and a lift of her hand.

              “Why don’t you try one on right now? Nothing major, just a little something I have laying around. Maybe it’ll give you an idea of what you want.”

              Eurydice agrees, takes Demeter’s outstretched hand and follows her up the creaking staircase to a tiny, pantry-sized room holding a sewing machine, baskets of yarn, and curtain rods across the walls to store rows of old clothing. She rifles through the mass of denim and bohemian patterns until she comes across a white dress, sheer fabric mixed with smaller, opaque bits. When she moves it from the rod, holds it up to show it off, Eurydice gasps. Intricately sewn into the difficult fabric is a glimmering gold thread-simple, yet absolutely glowing with the reflection of the sun. They are constellations-gatherings of stars and lines into simple shapes, some she recognizes while others feel foreign and wonderous.

              She reaches out a finger to trace the threading, mouth slightly agape in wonder. Demeter watches carefully, prods her once more.

              “Just try it on-you never know.”

              She does know.

              The moment Eurydice feels the fabric on her body, looks down at the mixture of pure white and soft gold, she feels a tug in her chest, a slight skip in her heart. She opens the bathroom door to find Demeter in immediate tears, grabbing her hands and holding her at arm’s length.

              “It’s yours. I knew it was yours, but seeing it on you…really, it’s something magical.” Eurydice is at a loss for words. She moves down the hallway, an ethereal being, consumed with the feeling of suspension between reality and a dream. When she finds the full-length mirror, Demeter has begun the same sort of rambling often heard through Orpheus’s lips, although hers is lighter and more controlled.

              “I’m not saying that It has to be yours-you can make your own choices. I just felt in my heart while I was working on those constellations that this dress would belong to someone special.”

              “You-you made these?”

              “I did, a long time ago.”

The day is beautiful; mid-spring, the weather just turning to warmth and continual sunshine. The winter’s snow has long since melted, making way for canvas shoes and well-worn sandals. Birds chirp thankfully, and a few soft clouds paint the sky in picturesque beauty. These days are her favorite; Demeter, who walks with an ambling gait down the old dirt road connecting bits of her small town. There is a purpose, but time is not a battle in this life, merely a reminder of when the day will turn dark and the chickens will need feeding.

              The girl, young in the softened features of her face, runs her hand absent-mindedly over her protruding stomach as she reaches the center of town. She isn’t too far away-a spring baby is what she’ll have-the first day, when the earth reaches the point of equity and evenness. Having the comfort of both knowledge and belief in her soul helps the pregnancy pass peacefully helps Demeter connect with the baby that will become her magnificent little girl. It’s been a strange journey thus far; she hadn’t been brushed off by the people in this small community, but she’s been asked, time and time again, exactly what she’s going to do as a single mother.

              “Easy,” she’d reply, with her well-known grin of boundless optimism. “I’m going to live.”

              Living has been simple-peaceful. In the time since she’s known she was pregnant, Demeter has gotten to know herself as more than a single entity, falling into the path she was meant to take. She feels whole, new. The aching in her bones serve as a reminder to her that this is real-that the yearning and the waiting are about to be repaid in a lifetime of unparalleled love. It helps her move forward, sit with the choice of a life without the family she’d grown up with; the mother back in the city, unwilling to move past her own comfort zone and living to shame her for making the same mistake that she’d made. But living this pregnancy at nineteen years old is not a mistake to Demeter-neither is her move to the rural town, or the new command over the tiny farm she’s learning to manage through her nana’s thorough journaling.

              Today, Demeter walks through town with the confidence she’d gained upon meeting its people, making herself known as someone who enjoys the slower pacing of life. She comes across the same thrift shop she’s frequented since she moved to town-tiny, indistinct apart from the racks of clothing brought outside its entrance, meant to draw people in. Demeter doesn’t need the draw-she finds herself here at least once a week, leafing through clothing and books with careful precision. She chats with the owners-an older couple who’d been good friends with her grandmother and in turn take care of Demeter, her spitting image. When she enters the shop, an overwhelming amount of peace surrounds her. She settles herself in it for a moment, humming softly to the baby in her protruding belly, and begins her journey.

              It doesn’t take long for her to find it.

              There’s a dress hanging between a woolen trench coat and an old army jacket, a delicate sort of thing against two harsher fabrics. She feels the light weight of chiffon, sheer and magnificent, and holds it between her fingers as if it will break. She brings the dress out to hold it in front of her, examines the way it falls so gently from its hanger. It’s simple-pure white, flowing sleeves and only a slight bit of shape at the waist. Once Demeter holds it in her hands, however, she can’t seem to let it go.

              “Found something you like today?” The older woman, with white hair braided behind her head, brings a finger to the dress in her hands.

              “There’s something…special about this dress.” She can’t quite place her words, brought to a stunned silence even more so by the simplicity of it all. To her plain eye, it’s just another white dress. But to her heart, there is more within it that she’s yet to place.

              “Why don’t you take it?” The shopkeeper grins, closing both her hands over Demeter’s. The young girl’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. But before she can say much more the dress is folded and placed in her canvas bag, and she’s back outside the shop. “I’m sure you’ll make use of it yet.”

              The words of the older woman ring through her mind as she continues her errands, the light weight of the seemingly magical dress feeling heavier with the knowledge that it is there. She stops to gather a few more things; nails for the garden bed, feed for the chickens. When Demeter returns home, she finds a small parcel on her porch-a little box, wrapped in cloth and addressed to her with only a card from her neighbor, thanking her for bringing over a small assortment of her own crop.

              “We thought you might be able to make use of this-it doesn’t really have a place in our collection.”

              Sitting on the porch, Demeter opens the box to find the sun shining down on some glimmering gold thread-beautiful, unique. It captures the light and keeps it within itself, radiates its warmth. She holds the spool, turns it over in her hands, entranced by the softness of it all. Where it could be a flashy show of overpowering glimmer there is simply a glow about it-something special, something different.

              She thinks about the spool of thread as she finishes her day’s work-repairs a row of stakes in the garden, feeds the chickens and collects their eggs. When the day is done her feet are aching, her back pinching from the combined weight of the physical labor and the work of growing a baby. She starts a small fire in the woodstove and makes a cup of tea, reflecting on the day at hand. In her lap, she holds the white dress from the shop; there’s no way it will fit her now, not in this state. Looking at it, she knows that it’s not meant for her-no, this dress is not her style, her taste. But the pull toward it was not mistaken, this she believes in the same way that her soul told her she was meant to have this journey of joyful solitude in the country.

              She remembers the gold thread.

              Demeter rises from the couch, still feeling the aching in her bones, and gathers her supplies in a peaceful sort of hurry. The day has fallen so neatly into place, so carefully, that she begins to understand that coincidence has only ever been a disguise for truth in her life. So she sits, dress in hand, and threads the gold through a small needle. She decides to begin at the heart, looking around for inspiration.

              And there, open on the rickety, hand-made side table next to the couch, is the book she’s been thumbing through, open to the last page she’d been reading before bed the night before.

              Demeter finds an immediate release of the soreness of her muscles through this gentle exercise, through the patient work of embroidering tiny stars and lines. She finishes the night by tying off her thread, admiring the handiwork she could still use a bit of practice at. At the heart of the dress, from the inspiration of the latest book she’s gotten from the thrift shop, the Orpheus constellation stands out amongst the white.

              “I would love to wear this dress.” It’s an immediate decision; Eurydice turns in the mirror, the gold constellations-more than the Orpheus it had started with-stand out as stories to be told. “Are you serious?”

              “Of course I am-it was made for you. I don’t believe that pattern over your heart was put there by accident.”

              Eurydice is not one to cry openly-has never been. The show of emotions has been seen only as a sign of weakness throughout her life, and she’d become very good at storing everything away. Since Orpheus, however, that visage has been harder to keep. Whether it’s the feeling of loving and being loved or the hormones within her body, Eurydice finds herself tearing up as she stares at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She can barely look away, doesn’t want to spare a moment away from the reality of it all.

              “Demeter, I.”

              “-Hush, flower. You know you can call me Amma.”

              “Amma,” Eurydice corrects herself, soft alto stumbling over the familial intimacy of the name. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s beautiful.”

              The months come and go in a blur; Eurydice is a victim of time, organizing her life with careful detail so that she does not fall behind on any aspect of her work. Demeter lives slowly. The young couple comes to visit once a week, Eurydice taking in every bit of Demeter’s child-birthing knowledge as she attempts to teach her grandson some skills in handiness. She helps Eurydice find her footing; describes birth plans and various options, keeps an honest forum of open questions that the young, occasionally frightened girl uses often.

              In the summer, just before Melody is born, Demeter offers her house for a wedding venue.

              “It may not be what you’re looking for,” she shrugs, pouring glasses of lemonade for Orpheus and a very pregnant Eurydice. “But it’s home.” They’re sold on this, Demeter bringing up a pad of paper and a pen to draw out ideas for the yard, little ways they can spruce it up to make it fit their needs.

              When Melody is born, their weekly visits to Amma’s turn into time spent at their own home, Demeter making the trek into the city to watch lovingly as Eurydice holds her chubby-cheeked daughter in her arms, cradles her and kisses the top of her head, feels that motherly love driving her to keep her eyes trained only on the baby. The older woman talks her through the little things; taking care of herself, making meals to freeze from her latest harvest so they don’t have to worry about cooking. She’s the visitor who stays; who uses her knowledge as a doula to be sure that Eurydice remains physically healthy, who answers her questions with a sort of truth decipherable through her own sort of cosmic, fate-driven speech.

              It’s the second Sunday after Melody’s birth that Demeter asks Orpheus to run out and get something at the store-she isn’t even sure what it is, or if they truly need it, but he leaves without a second thought. Demeter sits herself next to Eurydice on the couch-the young mother, not much older than she was when she’d had Persephone, looking exhausted yet bubbling over with love for her child.

              “I have something to show you,” She says, pulling the long white dress from inside of her bag. Eurydice gasps; the wonder of the dress she’ll wear in just a few months has not yet worn off-she’s not sure it ever will.

              “I’m not going to do any alterations yet, but I did make a little change.” Truthfully, she’d added the masterfully stitched shape a while back, the day that Eurydice had tried the dress on and she’d known the soul of the chubby-cheeked infant still inside of her. She’s stitched it on the hip of the dress, a placement unmistakable to the bond the first of their children will have with Eurydice.

              The young girl runs her fingers along the artfully-made constellation, tipping her head in an attempt to understand just what it might mean.

              “Leo,” Demeter explains, putting a thin, delicate hand on Melody’s back. “For her. This little one, attached to your hip, the way it was meant to be.”

              There’s a moment of silence-of natural pause, adoration as Eurydice fully admires the hard work that has gone into each pull of thread through difficult, sheer fabric. Then, it comes to her-swiftly, easily, somewhat surprisingly against the lack of tradition in her own heart. With this family-with the feeling of love surrounding her without pause-there is no better time to begin honoring the things she never thought she’d have.

              “Will you walk me down the aisle?” She’s not unsure of the question, but her past holds back the tone of her voice, mutes it to a wobbling sort of whisper. “Persephone already is, but I just-I think I want everyone to know how much you both mean to me, everything you’ve done for me. I didn’t have a woman to look up to for most of my life. I didn’t get that privilege. Now, I have two. And I want my daughter to live with these examples of women who’ve spent their lives lifting other people up-the women who found me and guided me and let me into their family with open arms. I need Melody to know that her family might seem a little makeshift on the outside, but that you all mean so much more to me than blood ever could.”

              Demeter, tiny freckled body and a head full of wild curls, shakes her head yes before wrapping herself around Eurydice and Melody, kissing the cheek of her grandson’s soon-to-be wife and holding the back of her head. This moment-the tender stillness of it all-is something she never saw coming, and something she will never forget.

[secretcrownchild]

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[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (14/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: So I got the impression that you guys were excited about the last chapter? I didn’t think it was too slow of a burn until I realized how many words were in the first 13 chapters. lol. Anyways, here’s some more words and a lot more feelings shared. All my thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @galaxyzxstark @eala-captian @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

Killian’s tracing the words “I love you” into Emma’s back. It’s a risky move, something he shouldn’t do, but he started doing this without truly realizing it. And then he couldn’t stop.

He loves her.

He loves her so much that he can feel it in every inch of his body, from the pounding of his heart to the emotion stuck in his throat and the way that his foot keeps tracing up and down her calves. Logically, he knew this was happening. There was no way that he couldn’t. He knew it was happening by the way that he spends his days wanting to see her, wanting to make her smile. He knew it was happening by the way that her laugh makes happiness settle in his stomach, and he knew that it was happening by the way that he’s wanted to tell her everything about his day and everything about the days where she didn’t know him.

All of the signs were there, all of the knowledge, but there’s nothing quite like when the moment hits you and you know that you’re in love.

Cheesy, sentimental sap that he is.

But Emma makes him feel in a way that he hasn’t in years, and while that should terrify him, all it does is make him smile to himself whenever he thinks about her.

Maybe he’s a sap because he’s sated, their lovemaking overwhelming and wonderful and so damn satisfying even if it was the first time with a new person, or maybe it’s because he’s got his girlfriend with him in his bed when he keeps missing her no matter how often they seem to run in the same circles.

Dating in secret is difficult when all he’d like to do is kiss her before a game and carry that kiss with him through every pitch.

He’s in love, and he can’t tell her, not yet. She’s not ready. That much, he can most definitely tell. Emma is the one who has to set the pace here, not him.

So he’ll carry it with him like he has from the moment that he realized he loved her when they were on the flight to Toronto four days ago. Emma was sitting two rows in front of him, the side of her face in his vision, and he kept watching he animatedly talk with her hands to Ruby, the two of them laughing so much that several of his teammates looked forward to see what was happening.

She was happy, the light evident on her face, and his stomach settled as he thought of her completely in her element and how nice that was to see.

That’s when it all clicked.

He loves her.

It’s funny how such a small moment could make him realize everything.

Asking her out, that first time, is still something he’s not proud of for how it negatively impacted Emma, but selfishly, he’s thankful for how it’s turned out for him…for the both of them.

Having her here in his arms is everything.

Soft lips (her lips are so damn soft) are pressed against his chest and up the hollow of his throat, and he feels the smoothness of Emma’s skin moving against his. Watching her move above him in the dim lighting of his room, firm muscles mixing in with the soft curves of her breasts and her hips, had been the most glorious sight he’d ever seen, and he most definitely plans on seeing it again.

Tonight.

And in the morning.

As much as he possibly can.

Her moving above him and him moving within her…magnificent.

“You’re comfortable,” Emma sighs into his shoulder, and he twists his head to look down at her as his fingers keep moving, this time in undetermined patterns instead of three specific words. “And your winter coat could keep a family of four warm.”

She pats his chest then, her fingers threading into the thick patch of hair, and he chuckles as his lips press into her nose.

“It’d be too bloody painful to wax all of that hair off, so it’s staying.”

“You would look weird without it.”

“Thanks, darling.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Aye, I do.” Her fingers mess with his hair some more, weirdly calming his heartbeat, and when she grabs onto the chain with his mother’s ring, he lets her, the silver reflected in the light. “What else would you be able to grab onto when you’re riding me like earlier?”

“Dirty,” she mock gasps, kissing his shoulder.

“I try.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, one he wouldn’t trade for anything, and he wonders if he should dip his head and start kissing her again as his body hums with anticipation in what could be or if he should fall into sleep when Emma makes the decision for him by speaking.

“Did it…can I ask you about something?” Emma whispers.

“Anything.”

“You’re probably going to regret that.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Emma nods her head, her nose brushing under his collarbone, before she’s dragging her foot up his calf so that a shiver runs down his spine. He might regret talking when it means they can’t be doing other things. “Why haven’t you been pictured with a woman in so long when you used to get pictured with one every other night? I don’t mean to – it’s a dumb question. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” he promises even as a heavy weight settles in his stomach, anchoring him to his spot as his mind races for an answer when he’s always known the truth. “It’s fine, love. You deserve to know.”

“Not if you don’t want to share,” Emma insists, her eyes pleading with him.

She’s nervous. She thinks she’s overstepped, but she hasn’t. He loves her, and she doesn’t know some of the biggest parts of his life. They have all of the time in the world to share, but he’s feeling so open tonight that he wants to share now.

There’s the chance that her mind could change after this, but he thinks that if anyone can understand a broken heart, it’s Emma. Or he at least has this hope.

“When I was twenty-two,” he starts, fiddling his fingers against his chest as he takes a deep breath to calm himself, “I met Milah. She was…she meant so much to me, and I very quickly fell in love with her. It was a whirlwind, I think. Looking back, it’s easy to see that, but at the time, it felt like I never could have enough moments with her. I – ”

He stumbles for words, his mind not sure how to tell the story. He’s never had to relay his heartbreak like this, and he thinks Emma knows from the way she threads their fingers together and then rests their joined hands on his chest.

“You okay?” She whispers the words, but he hears them loud and clear.

“Yeah, love. I’m fine.” He smiles down at her before looking at the ceiling, finding it easier not to have to look into those eyes of hers. “Milah was married. I didn’t – I didn’t know at first, and by the time that I did, I was so in love that I didn’t care. So, I made do with the fact that she had this other life for another year until she showed up at my apartment and told me that she was ending us so that she could focus on her husband and her son that I didn’t know about. It was…the hardest thing I’d been through after my mom and my father, and I just…I lost it, Emma. I thought we were going to get married. I had this foolish hope that things would work out for us, and I couldn’t even hate her for leaving me because who was I to keep a family apart when I would have given anything to grow up with happy parents? I don’t know – I hope she’s happy, that her son is happy too.”

“When did you two break up exactly?” Emma asks quietly, still very obviously unsure of how to act in this situation.

“Four years ago.”

He watches the lightbulb go off in Emma’s head, watches her eyes widen and her lips part, and he’s glad that she’s figured it out. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.

“Killian, all of the partying and drinking and sleeping around – that was because you were heartbroken, wasn’t it? You were trying to cope?”

“Yes.”

And then Emma’s shifting, her body moving away from his, and his heart nearly shatters at the thought of her leaving him already when he sees that she’s simply moving on the bed, sitting with her back straight and her legs crossed over the other as she stares down at him, only half of her breasts covered with the white comforter. Something about that makes him chuckle. It’s like the fact that an hour ago his mouth was lavishing her there, and now she’s covering herself.

Funny how things change.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, genuine remorse painted on her features. “That’s really fucked up, and I’m sorry for any remarks I’ve made about it in the past. That was…you should be able to do whatever the hell you want, and I’m sorry that you’ve been crucified for simply trying to live your life. I don’t – you didn’t deserve to have your heart broken like that.”

“I don’t think anyone deserves to have their heart broken.”

“Eh,” Emma scoffs as she pushes her hair back, the comforter falling around her waist. “I would say my exes most definitely deserve to have their hearts broken. Assholes can have their hearts broken.”

He can’t help but laugh at her and the casual way that she says this, a slight shrug of her shoulders. There’s something so effortless in the way that Emma acts even when he does know that she’s calculated and guarded. It’s a bit disarming, but then again, so is Emma.

“You want to share horror stories with me tonight? Or have I already dampened the mood too much?”

Her brows furrow together, lips pursing, and then she’s learning forward and taking both of his hands in hers, gently squeezing. “Hey, no. I know I’m not the best at words and feelings, but how you feel is how you feel. That’s not something to be ashamed about. You had what sounds like a really great love that had a bad ending for you, and it’s okay to be upset or hurt or sentimental. I think that’s pretty human actually.”

“And who said you weren’t good with words and feelings?”

“Every man I have ever dated.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“Just wait.” She holds her hands up before crawling over the mattress and standing on the floor, the curves on her backside on full display to him as she rummages through his bag to pull out his Vandy sweatshirt, the one that she seems to have a fondness for. He has a fondness for the way that it falls just below her ass. “Sorry, I was cold.” “You just wanted to steal my sweatshirt. You don’t have to lie.”

Emma winks before crawling back into bed and getting back under the covers with him, only the smallest bit of space between them. “Exactly. So, you want to hear about the shitty exes who broke my heart?”

The part of him that wants to know every part of Emma is desperate to know all of the things that make her tick, but he’s also not sure how he can hear about men mistreating Emma and breaking her heart. He can’t understand how anyone could do that to her.

But if they’re sharing tonight and she truly wants to…

“Only if you feel like sharing. We don’t have to do the whole tit for tat thing every time we share something dark.” Emma nods, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth. “I think I feel more comfortable doing it that way, if I’m honest. It makes me feel…less screwed up, I guess.”

“Share away then, Swan.”

“Okay,” she sighs, messing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “There’s this guy, Walsh. He’s actually, like, in a room on the floor below us because he works with me, and we dated for maybe a year.” Her brow raises like she’s doing the math in her head, and it’s cuter than it should be when he already knows that this story isn’t going well. “I’m not sure if I loved him, but I think I almost did. He went through so much of my career with me, was there when I got the job working for the Yankees, and I don’t know – it was such a happy time in my life that I didn’t see the signs when I should have.”

“Signs of what?”

“Cheating. And belittling me for my job, making me feel like I was less of a journalist or wasn’t good enough to do the job. And, I mean, obviously the fact that he was fucking someone else hurt me, but I think all of the little comments hurt worse because I’d already been through all of that before.”

This guy is a fucking bastard, and he doesn’t deserve Emma. No one who treats her like that does.

“From all of the asshole men who have demeaned you for your job?” he prods, trying to encourage her in her story.

“Yeah, kind of, but mostly just the one,” she mumbles, her eyes shying away from him. He doesn’t blame her for that. He did the same thing. He also knows that he felt infinitely better when Emma reached for his hand, so he does the same, twining their fingers together and resting them in the mattress between them, the both of them looking ahead as Emma talks. “There are a lot of reasons why I’m so passionate about being treated fairly in my job. For one, it’s because it’s what is right and fair. But also, it’s because when I was at NYU, I started dating Neal. I was still…I was struggling with accepting love from pretty much anyone other than David, so when he came around and treated me nicely and made me laugh and was just this really fun guy who made me feel good, I fell for him. I – ”

She takes a deep breath, and he squeezes her hand, trying to encourage her that it’s alright. They’re two people with complicated pasts, ones that never seem to be fully out there, and she’s not alone in all of this.

A part of him wants to tell her that he loves her and that it’s okay, but that would send Emma running all the way back to New York. She may have feelings for him and be in this with him, but there’s such a thing as heightened emotions and too much too quickly.

All the time in the world, he reminds himself. They have all the time in the world.

“I didn’t realize it first, you know? They say that love is blind, and I feel like this is what people mean by that. I didn’t realize that he was belittling me for my major or my job. I didn’t realize that he was telling me that my job wasn’t for women, that I couldn’t do it, that I wouldn’t be good enough for it. And then it spread into other aspects of my life. Neal told me that Ruth and David, that they weren’t my family, that they didn’t love me. He was the only one who loved me and could take care of me. I was with him for four years, and he has me so convinced that I was worthless that I believed it. Thinking back on it…God, I was a fucking idiot, and I hate that it still impacts so much of my life today. I still struggle with how I see Ruth despite the fact that I know that I love her. I still struggle every time someone thinks I only have my job because I’m attractive and that I don’t actually know what I’m talking about. I still – I’ve let Neal affect every aspect of my life, and he didn’t even stick around for me to break up with him. He just…he left one day and never came back like he was some kind of ghost.”

Fucking hell.

No. Just no.

Screw all of that. Emma doesn’t deserve any of that, doesn’t deserve to have been treated like shit by so many people. The fact that she still trusts anyone is most likely a miracle, and he can’t even believe what he just had to hear.

Every single bit of him is angry, furious really. So much about her clicked together for him just now. She’s never been given her credit, never been given her due, when it comes to her career, because she’s been belittled this entire time. He was someone who belittled her, even if he didn’t intend to, and of all of that added to everything she’s already gone through.

Personally and professionally, Emma Swan has been demeaned, and he can’t decide if he’d rather hug her or go out and punch the daylights out of her ex-boyfriends and every other person who has hurt her.

But none of this is about him at the end of the day.

It’s about Emma.

Sighing a deep sigh, he brings Emma’s hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle before sliding down in the bed and encouraging her to move with him so that they face each other, their joined hands in between their chests and his right hand on her hip, thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

The tears in her eyes make them all the more green.

“You, darling,” he begins, his voice quiet even if he was intending for it to be louder, “are one of the bravest, strongest people that I’ve ever met. Seriously. You’re a badass, and you’re also kind and quite frankly, hysterical.”

“I mean, I am hilarious.”

“Exactly.” He winks at her, and a smile curves over her lips. It’s soft, but it’s there. “I don’t know how anyone could ever treat you like you’re not worth everything. It’s unfathomable to me. Those men, every single one who has hurt you, are in the wrong, and they never deserved you. The fact that you’re open to letting other people in your heart after all of that astounds me.”

“You did kind of have to convince me.”

“You asked me out, Swan.”

“Technically you asked first.”

That sobers him for a moment while his heart sinks. “I’m sorry about that again. It goes at the top of my asshole moments.”

“Hey, hey,” she soothes, inching a bit closer to him so that he can feel her warmth and smell the vanilla that’s still in her hair, “I forgave you for that. We’ve worked it out. I don’t know why I’m crazy enough to give you, us, a shot, but I am. You don’t have to apologize anymore. We’re moving past that, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Completely” There’s a squeeze of his hand, and it rights his heart. “I think we’re actually doing pretty good at this relationship thing, if I’m honest. Did you know we have all of our serious conversations when in a bed?”

“That’s the best place to have them.”

“Is it?”

“Mhm,” he hums, trailing his hand up her body so that he can run his fingers over her cheeks, feeling the soft skin there as she smiles, “because we can either go to sleep afterward or have sex or even have just a bit of a cuddle.”

“Why not all three?”

“I like the way you think, Swan.”

And then he’s leaning in to guide his mouth over hers, something soft and timid that quickly escalates into a rough and dirty kiss. This is not at all how he expected his night to go, but then Emma showed up at the pool when he was trying to work out some of the kinks in his shoulder, and everything has spiraled from there.

No part of him regrets it.

It’s been one of the most intimate nights of his life, physically and emotionally, and he’d like to stay wrapped up in it as his body climbs over Emma’s. His teeth drag across her bottom lip, enjoying the little sounds that she’s making, and their hips roll together. He’s still bare of clothes while she’s only in his sweatshirt, and his fingers mess with the hem, pulling it higher and higher so he can get that feeling of skin against skin.

He hasn’t had enough. He needs more.

Their first time, just under two hours ago, comes back to him in flashes, and while he knows that they were hurried and desperate, it also felt like the moment lasted forever. He got to explore her body as she got to explore his, but they need more and more time.

Not right now.

It doesn’t take long before he’s hard and wanting, desperate to feel Emma’s warmth wrapped around him again, and his fingers deftly toy with her, riling her up as she writhes underneath him, more keening whines escaping her lips until she tells him that she needs more, that she needs him.

He reaches over for the package of foil, ripping it open and sliding it on himself, before he slowly sheaths himself inside of her, biting onto the side of her neck hard enough to leave a bruise. It’s perfect, the way she feels around him, tight and warm and wet, and he has to center himself before he slowly starts rocking within her, pleasure already trickling up and down his spine.

“Divine,” he murmurs into her neck as his hips flex and his elbows move to steady himself all the while Emma’s nails dig into the skin of his back and her ankles hook just above his ass. He expects crescent moons to be tattooed on his skin by the time that it’s over. “You’re divine.”

“K-Killian,” she moans in response as he starts to get into a rhythm, one that seems to be working for the both of them.

“I know, love. I know.”

His hips thrust and roll into hers, and when she shifts, he slips that little bit deeper into her, heat covering his skin and making him sigh against Emma’s mouth as their tongues snake together. It’s messy and rough, and the sound of their skin moving against each other is all that he can focus on as he loses himself in the softness of the woman who he loves and the feel of his chain pressing between them.

There’s something about the coolness of the metal on their warm skin that does something to him.

When Emma’s hand moves between them to brush at where they’re joined, he knows that she’s close, knows that she’s coming apart in their desperate coming together, so he arches his hips up to give her more space and snaps into hers at a pace that has them both panting and falling apart one after the other.

Holy hell.

Nothing is ever going to be enough when it comes to Emma even though she is more than enough.

Always.

Later, after they’ve cleaned up and showered, washing the sweat and chlorine off of their bodies, they sprawl out on top of the bed, their feet stretched up across the headboard and their gaze toward the speckled ceiling. He’s not entirely sure how they got into this position. He thinks it was Emma who did it first, her legs obviously a little antsy, and she’d rolled around until she got comfortable.

It is actually pretty comfortable, and he wonders if they’re so exhausted and sleep deprived that everything would be comfortable to them.

But he’s not exhausted enough to fall asleep. Not at all. It’s been a rollercoaster of a night, but it’s one of those nights he’d never like to end.

Emma’s stomach rumbles, and they get into a conversation about how Graham usually cooks for she and Ruby, especially when they’re both traveling, and that he’s probably the only reason she doesn’t starve. She also reminds him that he promised to bake for her, and he rekindles that promise, his mind already trying to figure out when exactly they can do that. It’s a busy season, the two of them live full lives, but they’ll figure it out. They both want to make the effort, and they will.

She also tells him that David is thinking about helping her out by commentating on a game sometime this season, and he’s so damn proud of her that his heart could very well burst.

It’s relaxing and calming and absolutely everything just to be able to talk to someone about his day outside of baseball, even if they do naturally fall into shop talk, and she listens as he talks about Liam and Elsa and the ridiculousness of having them as his support system. He hasn’t truly had someone to talk to about his friends and family until now, and it’s still taking some getting used to.

But he loves her and keeps falling more in love with her, so he thinks that they have all of the time in the world.

That’s what he keeps telling himself because he has the hope for it.

All the time in the world.